Psychotic SuperPowered Vampirism
by Pastiche Pen
Summary: Uh, "Edward never came back," and Bella goes crazy. Not just "hearing a hot voice in my head" crazy but medically insane. Yeah, and she has a superpower and wants revenge. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Discl_: Not trying to infringe on the Meyer. No. No.

So, yeah... uh, this is "crack-ish," but like, more like _Harry Potter _fandom "crackish"—because most Twicrack is either all-human or just a one-shot (or I simply don't like it), whereas there are loads of good canon/AU cracked plots in HP. Anyhoo, there's an actual plot/premise going on here. It's just more like a-playing-hopscotch-on-the-backs-of-sharks sorta plot/premise, so it's just going to be a bumpy (unhinged) journey. Anyhoo, here ya go. This is basically a "Bella puts the smack down on Edward" story—and Jacob is adorably sad but still gets some play. My summaries **rule**.

So, yes, this is nothing like _Candle._

Love to gallantcorkscrews and amercnxidiot for enabling me.

* * *

_From the Scribbled Journalizations of Jacob Black, in the year of our white-Jesus 2006, on how he chose to not test the icy wigwam of the town crazy chick and instead made Lauren Mallory bray while on all fours instead._

_Entry 1:_

Around the time that Bella Swan started hearing voices in her head was around the time that she went epic loony.

Epic loony is a relative term, but I can tell you that using her feminine wiles (e.g. not-so-accidental "accidental" crotch brushes) to get you to fix up two motorcycles for her, and then her riding down the road screaming "I hate you motherfucker! I hate you motherfucker!" over and over again—well, such acts can easily shape the definition of "epic loony."

The good thing (and the bad thing) was that I realized that I was not the motherfucker in question.

It was "Edward the vampire."

My first impression was that Edward was sort of a suckass dick who was pretty dickass sucky to Bella. (Oh, and he sucked cause he liked literally _sucked_, like blood from people and animals and stuff.)

But six months later as I write this...

Dude was in the right.

Well, maybe.

Nah. No, definitely. If I were him, I'd have run too—but I'm me. But if I were smarter...

Wish I was smarter.

And that Bella didn't have a superpower.

* * *

From: Bella_Swan(at)vampadoodle(dot)com

To: Alice_in_Jasper__wonderland(at)gmail(dot)com

Date: 10/14/2005 20:05

Subject: YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME

aLICE.

...

...

I just want you to know that...

Even though you left me, and even if it was because of him, I don't hate YOU anymore.

Uh, not that much.

I hate him.

...

Please ask him to come back?

Fucks, that's fucking pathetic.

(Yes, I curse now - part of the whole having-your-heart-stomped-on thing)

And just warn him: if he doesn't find me, then I'll find him.

Best wishes and happy, non-gross hunting,

-_Your Pathetic Little Human_

P.S. I stopped by your house the other day—there may have been a rock and a broken window involved—and went up to your room. I noticed that while all of your furniture was still there, you did manage to take your clothes. Funny, how that must have worked, you took your purses, but not your best friend.

P.P.S. Okay, maybe I still hate you.

* * *

**MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE**: thank you (and Phil) for the laptop  
once again  
now  
why are you bothering me, renee?

**Sunshine Daisies**: bb, i wrry bout u  
that asswp dumped u  
that sux  
and im yer mom so i worry

**MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE**: renee dont insult him

**Sunshine Daisies**: WTF? :-/  
I thought u were mad at him?

**MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE**: i am mad at him

**Sunshine Daisies**: so...

**MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE**: So, if i so want, I am allowed to carve  
the shape of a dead heart into his chest  
but YOU are not allowed to say anything bad about him

**Sunshine Daisies**: uh, Bella, r u sure you are ok bout this?  
maybe u should come stay with me 4 a bit?

**MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE**: and do your and Phil's laundry?

i think not

**Sunshine Daisies**: u wouldn't have to do laundry!

**MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE**: the dry cleaners would do it?

**Sunshine Daisies**: They dew a good job

iron it all and everythin

**MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE**: i'm signing off now

i'm going to iron charlie's underwear for kicks

**Sunshine Daisies**: y wld you do that?

MYEXBFRENDIZAVAMPIRE _has logged off_

. . . . . . . .

**Live Blog Feed from the Fucks, Washington Real Live Social Networking Site**

(AKA Bella's Vampadoodle Blogspot in the Forks High School Cafeteria)

Bella Swan. Member Since January 2005. True Friends. 0

* * *

What I would like in this moment **is** to go and sit on the patch of grass behind the gym and smoke something illegal.

I don't actually have anything illegal.

I'd believed Jake's friend Embry could hook me up, but nooo.

And then I asked him if I could bum a cigarette or something.

But double no.

He looked at me like _I_ was the one smoking something.

(And he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.)

So I asked him, "Wha...?" in my dead, have-no-spirit voice.

"But you're not like that?" he half-whined.

"Edit."

"Edit what?"

"I USED to be not like that, but now, well, now I'd like some fucking weed or at the very least, a cigarette."

"Bella, I don't think now is the best time for you to pick up smoking. You're... you're..."

"I got dumped. And now I want to rebel in stupid ways."

"Stupid ways?"

"Dear God, this is not repeat after me. Do you have something that remotely screams chemical rebellion?"

"No?"

"I'm going to find Leah, I muttered," and then I swiped the cigarette out of his mouth, shoved it between my lips, and inhaled.

Half-choking, I marched off.

So, yeah...

I hate school. I wish I was smoking grass on the grass, etc. Because hell, this—the whole having nothing-to-focus-on-but-him thing—is why I want to run away and hide, because the only item on my lunch tray is a red apple—and I wish it was a _poisoned _apple, filled with _venom_, so that I could bite into it just like motherfucking Juliet did, and speak the final words, "Anyone can hacky sack an apple, Romeo!" and then collapse with a mighty dead shebang on the lunch room checkered tile floor.

I hope I break something when I fall.

Fingers. A collar bone. My neck.

I hope I cut myself.

I hope that blood spills across the floor. A lot of blood.

I want to waste the only part of me that Edward ever craved.

**V-v-v-V**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Twilight ain't mine.

A/N: So, I'm posting this on my LiveJournal account as well as over here... It looks prettier on my LJ, though, and I comment right back to you, and then you can respond more easily. So, consider using that as a reading source: p_astiche-pen(dot)livejournal(dot)com/5726(dot)html_

Otherwise, once again thank you to AG3 (fer yer silliness and encouragement) and americnxidiot (for your sweetness and insanity). 

* * *

_Jacob Black's Smack Trap—pshaw! I think today is Tuesday?  
Tuesday is CFC day in the cafeteria—which is why Tuesdays rule.  
Okay, onward moves my Bic..._

**Entry 2**:

Admittedly, I should have recognized the symptoms.

I mean, when my mom died and dad got permanently strung to a wheel chair, my sisters pretty much caught one-way tickets on the depression train. Like, one of them married a Samoan surfer (who had a gut—_I know_—WTF, right!? Like, how the hell do you balance **that **on a sheet of glorified plywood?). So yeah, one sister married a fake surfer and the other moped around, wore black like daylight had gone out of style, and then graduated early to go to college when she's not even eighteen.

So fucking depressed.

Bella was depressed—but like, not?

Dang, well, she was, but I wasn't as much focused on that because I was focused on how effing hot she was. Sad girls are so hot. The dark eyes. The puffy lips. The disenchanted melancholy.

Bella looked like an Urban Outfitters catalog girl.

So, yeah, I should have noticed, but I was a little more focused...

On my junior teepee.

Dang it.

——————————————————————————

Bella's Online Journal

——————————————————————————

_Dear E-Diary:_

I'm beginning to think smoking is cliché.

Dare I say ...undramatic? Hell, even hard drugs are sorta boring.

Self-destruction is only interesting when it's **total**, I think.

But really, I don't want to destroy myself. I just want to sever the part of me that belonged to him—or at the minimum, cover it with a musty nun's habit or drown it in the odor of a braided garlic necklace.

Which is immature, I know.

I used to be that way. Mature. Responsible. I used to think of myself like a bold heroine out of an old novel, especially the romantic heroines, noble and yet somehow deserving of their lover's devotion (which is why I love Jane Austen). Anyway, this silly world view was one of my tiny, hidden conceits. It was a secret seed. Nothing more. And it was content to keep it close. To lie in wait. Maybe, never even let it grow.

But then along comes Edward Cullen with his vampiric super-pheromone smell, hot body, and brainy "bugger off" Fitzwilliam Darcyness. Naturally, his acceptance of me, his words of love, well—it was like he poured magic venom fertilizer on my itty wittle seed, and the effect was so magnificent that I needed to buy the magnum-sized wrappers to keep Jack's bean stalk covered.

But now.

Now he's gone.

And, alas, my seed and the tree into which it grew are _dead_, and I am not Lizzy Bennett. I am not even quirky, semi-fat Bridget Jones. Nor am I even a nice orphan with a blind widower like Jane Eyre. I'm not even boring, comfortably wedded Charlotte with a life of icky sex with Mr. Collins.

I am the jilted side show. I am the lunatic wife in _Jane Eyre_, the one that burns the whole place down with the unhinged dive out of the belfry at the end. I am Medea but with a sterile womb and only a rayon fleece. I am Romeo's Rosaline, a passing crush and deserving of nothing but a brush-aside mention.

I am a weed now. An ugly, encroaching weed.

...

...

_Wow_.

I just wrote that. Jeepers, I'm emo.

Wait.

No. No. No! NO! Not Jeepers—not "Holy Crow." NO. Not "Golly Gee Willackers."

I am not _Leave It to Beaver_ Bella Swan.

I'm Lorena Bobbitt with a cleaver! That's right! **Fucking hell**, I AM PISSED! So yeah, I'm angry, and I need to SCREW HIM. GIVE HIM THE BIG OLD _FUCK YOU_.

Even though he's not present. And smoking isn't working. I'm not good at it. I'm too clumsy too look cool while doing it. I keep accidentally burning myself.

Maybe I should take up an off-beat religion?

Or.

Wait.

...

_Yes_.

There is something better than taking on a new religion.

There's...

Well, e-diary, you'll soon find out.

Now, I, Bella, am going to plan.

Cuz that's what I do.

-Bella

——————————————————————————————————————  
From: Alice_in_Jasper__wonderland(at)gmail(dot)com  
To: cswan(at)forkspd(dot)org  
Date: 10/20/2005 20:05  
Subject: Hello, My Favorite Man in a Uniform!

——————————————————————————————————————

Dear Charlie,

Sorry to email you at work. :-\ But I wanted to send you my warm regards and also inquire about Bella. She sent me some emails, recently. I don't know if she mentioned them to you? They have me worried. I really wish we didn't have to move away, and I imagine the transition has been hard for Bella; however, you haven't noticed her doing anything unusual lately, have you? Any risky activities?

And before you jump the gun and assume she's told me something, be assured—she hasn't really confessed anything. I am not sure that any untoward behavior has occurred. It's just that I've been having these inklings that she's headed for some trouble, and as her friend, I'm worried...

Like maybe hide your gun? Sharp knives?

DO NOT GET A PET.

Oh, and tell her that orange is not, under any circumstances, her color.

Do that. But don't tell her I emailed you. Just be subtle about the "orange," okay?

AND DO NOT GET A PET.

AND NO ORANGE. PLEASE. There's an orange shirt in her dresser drawer. Far left. Second from the top. It's... _tweed_. Could you be a dear and incinerate it for me?

Although you could probably pull a nice pumpkin off yourself, Charlie. So no worries. ;-)

xoxo,

Alice 3

——————————————————————————————————————  
Friend me!: Twitter. Facebook. BLOG.

"I am not afraid of tomorrow, for I have seen yesterday and I love today."  
- William Allen White

**DO NOT INVEST IN THE HOUSING BUBBLE, YOU IDIOTS.**  
——————————————————————————————————————

**Bella's Note to Mike Newton in History Class**

**Are you still dating Jessica?**

We broke up like 3 weeks ago—so... NO.

**I'm sorry about that.**

Uh, why? Stanley is a loud-mouthed gossip, has awful cellulite, and what she told Lauren about the size of my... well, she's a big mouth who gives bad—um, nevermind.

**Oookay. Well, I am sorry. . . Anyway, are you working today?**

I always work with you on Wednesdays. Not that you seem to notice...

**I've been out of it.**

Didn't notice. :-P

**So, we can talk at work then?**

We can. Was that all?

**Well, Mike...**

...yes, Bella?

**Have I ever told you that you have a really nice neck?**

No? Thanks?

**Well, you do. It's really, really, really nice.**

————————————————————————————————————————————————

**Live Video Feed from Newton's Sporting Goods around 8:00 pm that Evening**

————————————————-————————————————————————————————

There are two employees standing by the cash register.

One is ringing up a customer. He is the blond-haired male.

At his side is the dark-haired female. She is bent back, an arm on the hunter-green counter supporting her curved posture. She is scanning the male up and down. She looks contemplative, like she is planning or plotting or weighing her options.

The blond male finishes ringing up the customer.

The customer leaves.

It is five minutes until closing time, and the store is empty.

The female's lips move, and she is talking to the blond male. Her words end with raised eyebrows, and even more importantly, the blond male's eyes widen, and his head snaps to attention, and then the dark haired female leans forward. The male stand rigid. She raises her fingers and touches a spot on his neck.

Her lips move, her eyes focus. It's another question.

A slanted grin takes over the male's expression. He shakes his head somewhat cockily.

The female drops her chin. She gives the male a beleaguered, patient look.

He grins again. This time in anticipation.

And then she snatches up his arm.

She asks something again.

The male throws his head back and laughs but then his head shoots forward again, because he's staring down, and the female has her teeth buried in flesh of his forearm.

He says something to her. Some demand or series of expletives.

She releases his arm, but then she pulls him against her, and she bites...

His neck.

This time the male doesn't protest.

But instead, he bites her back.

And then there's a flurry of moment, and the female is shoving the male back—farther and farther—and every time he tries to take control—to stop her—or to merely stand still—she bites him again—and the more he resists the harder the bites get—the more marks there are on the male's neck.

However, the female stops when they reach the apparent destination.

The tent stand.

And she has the male pressed up against a charcoal grill, and he's got a fat grin on his face because his hand has gone under the Newton's Outfitter's polo and even under what appears to be a thin t-shirt beneath that—and is sketching the under curves of the _Sierra Bella_, when the female knocks him back so hard that he falls.

As he falls, the male tries to catch himself, and his hands smacks backward, but his right hand lands on a fake rock at the edge of the display. His teeth clench as the jagged edges pierce his flesh.

When he holds it up to look, the female looks too. The gash appears to be shallow, but there's a thin stream of red seeping into the creases of the palm.

The female begins trembling slightly, and she has two fingers cupped over her lips.

She looks a little green.

The male, despite his obvious pain, speaks to her, his expression comforting. The female shakes her head, and then she pinches her nose, and takes a long draught of air. The male leans forward as she does so, his eyes flitting once again to the bare skin exposed under the rumpled polo.

The female reaches out to him, still trembling, and she slides her fingers carefully over his fisted hand. One at a time, she delicately removes his clutched fingers, and then they both look down at the open wound.

And then the female leans down, as if to examine it more closely, except her face gets nearer and nearer and her whole body has gone from trembling to shaking, so that her grip on the male's hand is erratic, and he must brace it with his other arm.

But then the female does the oddest thing.

She takes her fingers off her nose and leans down.

She runs her tongue up the cut.

In one slick line.

The blond male's mouth falls open. His eyes grow wide.

The dark-haired female leans back, no longer trembling, though her jaw is stiff and her eyes are wide.

She had a spot of blood on her bottom lip.

Her tongue peeks out, and she licks it.

The blond male looks from the female down to his bleeding hand, and back from his bleeding hand to the female. Mysteriously, he cracks a grin.

Even the female looks confused.

And then the male plunges forward, the non-bloody hand clutching her jaw, and the male's tongue protrudes, and the female's mouth is still open with surprise, so that he manages to pop his pink organ inside, and his eyes are closed but the female's eyes are threatening to rocket out of their sockets, and her mouth is still open, like she doesn't know what to do about the invasion.

But then her mouth snaps shut at the same time that her eyes do.

And the male leaps back and is his hand is clutched over his mouth—not unlike the female's was before, but there is fresh blood evident between his fingers and though his mouth remains closed, he seems to be savaging growling at the female.

But the female is having none of it.

She yells back, her chest heaving with each burst of words, and then she leaps to her feet.

She marches to the side of the faux camp ground and wrenches the first aid kit off the shelf.

The female throws it at the male.

It misses him by a few feet and bounces once before the clasp breaks and the contents fan across the green patio covering.

The male has stopped trying to communicate but is now simply watching the female with large eyes.

And then the female turns on her heel.

She makes for the door.

She's passing by the counter when she stops. She stares at one of the pictures on the magazines for sale. She grabs the magazine and then throws that at the male too.

Then she storms out.

The male sits still for a minute, and then begins making use of the medical supplies. He puts gauze against his lip. For his hand, he sterilizes and wraps wound before quickly bandaging it up.

He's lucky he's a lefty.

The blond male stares down at the magazine.

"Angelina and Brad Have Vampiric Threesome with Billy Bob!"

There is a jar of Vaseline next to the cue tips.

The male frowns at the front doors, from where the female retreated.

Then he grabs his supplies and crawls into the tent, zipping it behind him.

A minute later the tent is shaking


	3. Chapter 3

Candle is flowing again. (Burning again?) This chapter is so effed up. Read on.

This looks so much better on my LJ - I use colored text so the entries look pretty. pastiche-pen(dot)livejournal(dot)com/6134(dot)html#cutid1

* * *

_Jacob Black's Sanity Compendium. Listening to "Let It Be" and wishing the world was such. Dated months later than this entry should have been. This entry should have been put in a police report the date it occurred._

**Entry Three**:

If a girl comes up to you and screams "I'm looking through you!" with the implied beat of the Beatles but none of the sweet guitar harmonies, how should you respond?

I'll tell you.

You smile and tell her she looks fetching.

You smile because your eyes will fight to say the truth. And the truth is to be chained by the would-be boy hero you believe yourself to be in such instances. After all, you get off on saving people, so why not here too? _Dear Momma Nature, What did I know? How could I have known?_

Bella did look different, and yes, oh, yes, yes, yes, she _had _changed—because _I was looking through her—and she was not the same_. And when I say "not the same," and that I was "looking through her"—I _need _to explain, because fucking _duh_, Bella is near a transparent critter to begin with, but it was more than that then. It was a shit-load more.

She showed up at my door: cut bottom lip pouting out with angry scarlet, hair billowing like grey-brown strato-nimbus, and eyes corpse-like and yet cartoon-crazed with the forks of capillaries that fanned around her irises.

I thought at first it must have been my own imagination pulling the wool over me. And now, I can say, _my eyes so got it right_. (Super eyes!) But at that time, I second-guessed myself. _Sane people _second-guess when presented with the improbable.

I was looking at Bella—and she looked... Bella looked cloudy. Like the violet blue of her forearm veins seemed to have a rolling zip. Like her teeth seemed to shine more fluorescent than a daytime smile should allow. Like the blush that came over her cheeks crested like a soft rolling wave. I stepped back. I blinked. I tried to tell myself I was crazy, but I couldn't. So, instead, I told her (asked her?) with wide eyes, "You're... faded?"

Bella, looking faded and angry and so just out-of-a-music-video, gave me a single nod.

And she opened her mouth to speak, and the scent was in the air... ripe and alive and fucking wrong.

Blood.

But not Bella's.

I didn't even know how I knew that, but I did (the whole latent superwolf thing).

And so I asked, "Were you in an accident?"

"You might say that..."

"Why might I...?"

"Mike Newton has a weird fetish."

The Boy Hero leapt to defend! "Did he hurt you?" I snarled.

She gave me a baleful roll of the eyes. "No. I hurt him."

_Not _what I expected. "Oh."

"But he liked it."

"Ew." _Ew. Ew. Ew._

There was something of a lull in the conversation occurred as I tried to rationalize the nagging "ew."

Bella un-lulled us. "Jacob, do I look odd?" she asked.

"A bit?"

"Oh."

"But like odd-_hot_."

"O-o-oh. I mean, ohh."

"Bella, you're being weird."

"I _feel _weird."

"Well, like how do you feel?" I reached out to press a palm over her forehead, but she took a step back.

"Like I..." she trailed off, and then she looked up at me. "I don't think I can explain?"

To which, I fucking rolled my eyes, "Come on, Bella, we're tight. You can tell me anything."

"Perhaps, but you might hate me later."

"Uh... _no." _(Girls can be so dumb.)

And then Bella shook her head, and I saw it cross her face. _The look_. The "I got Lizzie Bennett in my pants" look, the one that hopped on motorcycles and cursed in public places and let her skirt hike a little too high and left only avocado sushi rolls for Charlie's dinner.

_Oh, yes, Jakey knew that look._

And then Bella fucking swaggered as she walked around my kitchen table. She swaggered, and her hip almost hit the corner, but it didn't and then she was a great female "v" above me, with luminescent blood smell and power-to-the-pussy hot senior high school girl magnetism, and yeah, I didn't fucking think of stopping her when she lowered herself across my shivering thighs.

I didn't even stop her when she said:

"Words won't do it."

"I'm going to show you."

"This might hurt."

"Tell me to stop."

The pain—from below my collar bone—from where i cut myself wrestling with Quil—it was like Bella went for the scab.

But it was Bella. She was there. She was not the dead, Urban Outfitters looking with eye-liner-but-no-lipstick Bella. She was daytime soap opera (fuck yeah!) Bella.

But then.

Even though I could feel her. I could feel her hurting me. I could hear her wheezing at the seeping smell of minerals and liquid protein in the air. I could feel the suckling of her mouth. The tensing of her hips in mocking female ways.

She was there—but then she wasn't.

You won't believe me.

Bella. Before my eyes.

She fucking disappeared.

Gone.

Poof.

Evanescent Bella.

I won't lie. I may have freaked out a bit?

**————————————————————**

**Succubus's Anonymous - LiveJournal Community Post**

**_Hi! I have a bloody stupid question..._**

Posted by MYEXBFIZAVAMPIRE18

Eh, so this is my first post, and I wanted to say that uh... Google has failed me. Totally and completely. First off, Renfield syndrome is the fucking creepiest thing I've ever heard of. First of all, in the book, once Renfield got done with eating the bugs, that crazy zoophagus fucker was intent on eating a kitty if he could get his hands on one. Nasty. Gross. I found it scary-cool in _Dracula_. But in real life, I vomit slightly in my mouth.

And well, blood fetishism seems to mostly be an excuse for erotic pleasure or whatever, but I wanted to ask you all the whole hemoglobin chugging phenomenon... like do you like the smell? Can you smell it? And after you've partaken of your partner, does he ever suffer an altered physical state? And I'm talking like a little wolfish? Maybe? Do you suffer an altered state?

Help?

Your virgin succubus poster.

_-MYEXBFIZAVAMPIRE18_

———————————————————————————————————-

**Sanguine Sam -**

Are you really a virgin?

**Bob -**

Blood smells sweet.

**xxx-bloodluvr-xxx -  
You Got it wrong, honey  
**

Renfield syndrome is not that way. It's about childhood trauma. Lose Google and go to a your local library. Really or consider buying something from the bookstore. If you're truly in need, go to a college library.

**Sanguine Sam -  
****Re: You Got it wrong, honey**  
You shouldn't be so mean. We all don't have access to libraries. You dont' even know what country she's from. She could be from the third world! And she's a virgin.

**RainbowVampire -  
Bow-Wow!!!**

Wicked! Alternated fysical state! Where do you get yo feed, virgin hemo-babe? n fucking A. Wolfish? Man. You do it doggie neath the full moon? Ripper howl! yeahhhh! Dude. Fucking awseom.

**Sanguine Sam -  
****Re: Bow-Wow**  
She couldn't have been doing it doggie style. She's a VIRGIN.

**Bride-ov-ze-blood  
****Re: Bow-Wow**  
She didn't say that was for sure.

**Sanguine Sam -  
****Re: Bow-Wow**  
Why? are you a virgin?

**Bride-ov-ze-blood -  
****Re: Bow-Wow**  
I could be if you wanted me to be... ;-)

**Sanguine Sam -  
****Re: Bow-Wow**  
You have a stupid name. I can forgo.

**Bob -**

You mentioned symptoms? What symptoms?

**MYEXBFIZAVAMPIRE18 -  
Re: ??? **  
Uh, well, like I said, blood smells bad to me... but then I drank some. (Don't ask. Especially not you **RainbowVampire**.) And then I felt this awful choking feeling in my stomach which spreads down to my fingertips.

**Bob -  
Re: ??? **  
Was this a burning sensation?

**MYEXBFIZAVAMPIRE18  
Re: ??? **  
Maybe?

**Bob  
Re: ??? **  
Did it last for three days and then did you wake up with rockhard skin and an inclination to drink people?

**MYEXBFIZAVAMPIRE18 -  
Re: ??? **  
Just for clarification, I still have a heart beat.

**Bob -  
Re: ??? **  
Just checking. Either way, you might consider seeing a specialist. I'm from Italy. We have a hospital for blood-related illnesses and psychoses here in Volterra. You might consider it. There's a lovely castle and everything. Also a spa. You should send in an application to spa_de_sange(at)volterra(dot)com.

By the way, what was your ex-boyfriend's name?

******Dracula-Has-My-Tantaculas -  
OMG Volterra SPA **

I've sent in applications three times! Those Volterra people never respond back!

**xxx-bloodluvr-xxx -  
****Re: OMG Volterra SPA **  
Have you tried a phone book? No one ever uses the phonebook anymore.

**Sanguine Sam -  
****Re: OMG Volterra SPA **  
That's because you have a stupid name.

_MYEXBFIZAVAMPIRE18 has logged off._

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Sue Clearwater's Notes from the Impromptu Tribal Meeting

————————————————————————————————————————————————

1. Jake - Now, Jake has joined the pack. (celebration planned on Friday. note: make leah bake cookies - threaten her with emily's muffins as a last resort if she gives any lip - seth can babysit paul's little brother)

2. Budget - Harry will compete by 12/15

3. Bella - Must figure out what to do about Bella.

-no relevant legends  
-does this effect the treaty?  
-what do we do about charlie? tell him? not tell him?

(definitely sending him cookies - make leah bake extra - she needs to get off the couch)

4. Youth smoking Issues. Embry needs to quit. (his mom works too much - send her some cookies)

5. Old Quil's 80th birthday party (Leah's cookies will not do. ask emily to make a cake)

**V-v-v-V**


	4. Chapter 4

**Discl**: Stephenie Meyer is so much nicer than this.

**A/N:** As always, LJ is prettier. Also, Angstgoddess003 and I are hosting a slash contest, "The Slash Backslash Contest." You can click on my profile and then "communities" tab to get to it. It's super fun. Finally, be sure to check out the Lazy Yet Discerning Ficster.

_

* * *

_

_The epistolary doodlings of one deranged Jacob Black, son of Billy Black, chief of the Quileute tribe of the Northwest. ALSO, a once and future sane guy. A warrior turned victim by his own sword (Sword is a euphemism here.). A victim of the nefarious y-chromosome and ancestoric lupine genes in the year of our Lady (Leah said Christianity's worst offense against native peoples is its sexism) 2006._

**Entry 4**:

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?"

(Avril Lavine is fuck-hot. (You know I like the eyeliner.) I admit this—even if she's a whiny Canadian.)

Anyway, so, guess what? Like, turned out I was a Xanax short of being a wolf in any given second and Bella was one-pint of O+ short of turning see-through.

So.

You'd think we'd be thick as thieves, or like I'd be up to no good in her pretty spots.

But _no, _following the situation where she crazy evaporated and I changed into the wolf the first time...

Bella wasn't scared or anything.

The opposite.

I was like shaking fur and padding about and wagging a newly sprouted tail, but Bella...

I heard a frustrated exhale from the corner of the room. Bella. She smelled annoyed (though I couldn't _see _this). But then again, my point of view was skewed. I was a tad upset at the moment. I recall my thought process, as follows:

WHY AM I FURRY IN THE AIR? Bella _bit _me. WHY AM **HOWLING**? Bella's invisible. _SHE _DID THIS!!! I smell Bella in the corner. She smells like blood. SMELLS GOOD. Ew. I'M A VAMPIRE! BELLA TURNED ME INTO A VAMPIRE! SHE'S AN INVISIBLE SUCCUBUS WITH VAMPIRE CHANGING SKILLS!!!! _Hoooooooowwwwwl!!!_

_(But vampires don't howl?)_

But of course, then creepy voices got in my head.

_This is natural Jacob. _

_This is your birthright._

_Center yourself. Like a yogi master or a jedi, dude._

And I was all like, BELLA HAS MAGIC MIND CONTROL POWERS TOO!

I shouted this. (Howled this.)

I got a "Whatever, Jake. Stop howling" from the Bella voice.

But the manly, canine voices in my head were all like:

_Don't eat Bella!!! She's in there with you?! _

_Calm down. Take big deep breaths._

_Sit. Sit. Sit, Jake, sit!_

So, I took the safe course. I hightailed it (with an actual tail) out of there. I broke a window. The glass covered the lawn as I raced for the trees.

Bad dog?

By the time they found me (in the shed) and calmed me down—and I was capable of believing they were not under Bella's imperium, (To prove this, Embry piss-drew A-U-S-T-E-N with really clear lines, so I was _sure._) I got to find out that I was really almost as wicked fucked up as Bella was. I was a werewolf and turns out that Bella's ex was an actual blood drinking vampire.

After they left and Billy was in bed, I let this all sink in for a while.

Bella needed help.

I could help her!

But then there was a knock on my window.

I opened it.

Bella was there!

She was beautiful.

She smiled at me with crimson lips.

No one was there to help me.

——————————————————————————————————————  
From: Alice_in_Jasper__wonderland(at)gmail(dot)com  
To: cswan(at)forkspd(dot)org  
Date: 10/31/2005 20:05  
Subject: ASK ME IF I'M AN ORANGE?!

——————————————————————————————————————

CHARLIE.

SHE'S GOING TO FIND THE **ORANGE** SHIRT UNLESS YOU MOVE IT BY TOMORROW. Charlie, I know I told you to burn it—but you trashed the wrong one.

The shirt you so heroically chucked was _peach_.

_Peach _is in no way **orange**.

_Peach _brings out the nice blush in your daughter's cheeks.

The shirt I'm talking about is **orange**. AND CORDUROY. it may seem odd to take such measures, but I'm sure that in your own profession, from time to time, you must take steps or measures that are as challenging, but like in your job, some times you must take those hard shots.

This is the time.

Gasoline. Drench it. A single match. Toss it into the fumigant mess. Let the gold of the flames crush that horrid zesty **orange **of the shirt. Let it fold and pop and shrivel and crackle as it disintegrates. Let the black column of smoke fill the sky. Let the dark and the light of the purification bring us smiles with our heavy joy.

Okay.

Jasper says I'm melodramatic, but I told him yesterday that your coloring looked better than his in that nice shade of pumpkin, so I think his opinion is clouded by his own jealously.

Anyway, a side thing.

There hasn't been a drug trade popping up with the Quileute youth lately has there?

Now, I know that you know that the La Push crowd has never had a good relationship with my family, but I want to assure you that I'm only being a cautious friend. I just really don't know what to make of the various rumors I've heard from old school friends. Naturally, my simple wish is that I was hoping you could just pop in and ask Billy about it since you two are longtime friends. Would that be too much of a bother?

Be sure to be specific: LSD. Shrooms. Paint. Glue. An excessive use of cellophane? Really, anything that would make a... er... camera go fuzzy? I don't know if that makes sense?

I'm sorry if I'm being coy, Charlie. I just worry a lot.

OH, and whatever you do, Ms. Cope is not worth any amount of alcohol.

Just saying.

xoxo,

Alice

——————————————————————————————————————

**Orange **is not the new pink, even if it's Halloween soon, folks.  
"A man is not an **orange**. You can't eat the fruit and throw the peel away."  
- Arthur Miller  
**Pomegranate is acceptable with a nice chocolate to contrast. No Olive. Never.**

——————————————————————————————————————

**Bella Swan's Job Application to the Forks Hospital**

First Name: **Isabella (Bella) Middle Name: ****Marie Last Name: ****Swan**

Street Address: **1225 Wiley Street**

City, State, Zip Code: **Forks, WA ****98331**

Phone Number: **(360) 540-VAMP**

Are you eligible to work in the United States?

Yes **X** No_______

Have you been convicted of or pleaded no contest to a felony within the last five years?

Yes_______ No **X - My dad is the town sheriff. Seriously.**

If yes, please explain: _________________________________________

**POSITION/AVAILABILITY:**

Position Applied For

**Lab Assistant**

Days/Hours Available

**Weekday evenings. Weekends. **

Skills and Qualifications: Licenses, Skills, Training, Awards

**I can assure you that I am exceptionally well qualified. Good communication skills.**

**Enthusiasm. Also, all the staff know me well—since I'm a regular patient. Barb, you're the one reviewing this, right? Hi, Barb. I know I used to be afraid of blood and everything and you used to have to hold a washcloth over my nose to make the situation not end with a mess of vomit and fainting, but I can assure you that I'm over my former "issue." You may have heard (like everyone else in this town has, I'm sure) that I had a nasty break up with my ex-boyfriend, and well, I'm hoping to get over it by facing my demons and taking on new challenges, and this is why I'm hoping you'll consider me for the blood collection assistant position. Thanks! Bella.**

_EMPLOYMENT HISTORY:_

Present Or Last Position: **Cashier, sales clerk**

Employer: **Newton's Outfitters**

Supervisor: **Cara Newton**

From: **8/2005** To: **Present**

Responsibilities: **Ringing up customers. Assisting customers with questions.**

Salary: **$8.50 per hour**

Reason for Leaving: **Mike Newton is a pervert. **

——————————————————————————————————————

From: Bella_Swan(at)vampadoodle(dot)com  
To: Alice_in_Jasper__wonderland(at)gmail(dot)com  
Date: 10/31/2005 20:05  
Subject: small vampires

——————————————————————————————————————

Just so you know.

Charlie uses the same password for every account.

"Trout123."

He tried to switch it to "Bass321" once, and they couldn't get access to the police station computers for 48 hours because he forgotten he'd changed it.

Why is this information important?

Because weird shit has been going on lately.

For example, there's the fact that Charlie has been scanning the fashion week news and website whenever he thinks I'm not looking. At first, I thought I was making stuff up, but then I checked his browsing history...

Next, there's this odd mystery where every shirt I own that happens to be in the "warm" color family seems to have disappeared.

Charlie is color-blind by the way—YOU IDIOT.

Oh, and there's a charred circle with splatterings of beads and cloth in the middle of the lawn. I'd say someone held a witch's bong circle, except for the non-pot smell and that Charlie's eyebrows were partially singed off and how he looked highly guilty in this pumpkin-colored sweater that I'm sure was last worn in 1969.

All conclusions pointed to a certain smallish vampire with a capacity to meddle that the universe cannot simply contain.

Meaning: you.

A quick check of Charlie's email account confirmed this theory of mine.

aLlCE.

You have already betrayed me in every way that matters. For you to continue to do so in all the ways that don't matter does not help your case.

Be gone.

Stay away.

Oh, and tell your brother to watch out.

Neither you nor he will see it coming.

But it will come.

(Probably in a blaze of orange just to spite you.)

-_Your Pathetic Little Human_

P.S. I'm wearing yellow, lime green, and tangerine even though the last time we saw sun in this town was three weeks ago Tuesday. I may be a "winter," complexion-wise, but I'm done with classifications. I want my skin tone to clash with my clothes like cymbals in kindergarten Music class. I want to make Rainbow Bright tremble with the bad irony, the color wheel to spin off into the black. I want you to look into my future. I want you to look and wish your dead eyes could cry.

Mine are alive, and they still can't.

P.P.S. Given your last email to Charlie, I know you're not seeing my future clearly anymore. I know why, and I've decided to give you clue: I've now learned that ALL men whom I could find attractive are dogs.

_Ruff!_

Figure that shit out.

P.P.S. Just because I can, I will do everything in my power to make sure Ms. Cope gets some play. Just because I got rejected, doesn't mean she should, too. So there.

——————————————————————————————————————

A/N: *Rock on. Anyhoo, if you see crap in this that is typo'd, do let me know. I would say give me constructive criticism on this, but... um, that's like commenting on the beauty of a many-eyed potato, so do what you will. Heh.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin.

A/N: My LJ is prettier. It always is. This is not the funniest chapter. It's something, though?

_

* * *

Jacob Black's Last Shrill Testament. I'm writing this for all men, so that they might learn from my mistakes._

**Entry 5**:

Bella, it would seem, after being wrapped mind, body, and soul into a man (former man? male vampire?) only to find herself rejected and cast aside... I guess you could say Bella wasn't exactly girlfriend material any more.

Which IS NOT me being some _prick_.

What it is—it's a reflection on me being a **lovestruck dumb ass**. 'cause, man, I should have realized this about Bella. But considering I'd never even had a girlfriend before... Well, not really. I mean I'd had girls like me before, and I'd considered going for it. I just hadn't... I don't know. I sometimes think it had everything to do with my mom.

Mom had always told me and my sisters: "There are too many jerks in this world. Treating others with respect is a sign of self-respect—and there's no one this applies to more than women."

And then mom got smooshed by a semi.

I had no mom. My dad was in the chair.

But I did have those words. I chose to honor them (mostly). Actions do speak louder than words, but it is truly the words by which we must live.

I wanted to help Bella, but Bella was determined to help herself. She got a job, collecting blood from the Forks hospital. I knew this was bad. I told her it was wrong. She patted my head, then flipped me off, ripped open a red baggie, and fuzzed into nothing as she walked away, slurping down the contents, and running off to who knows what.

I tried to get Billy to talk to Charlie about the wrongness, go all dad on her and make her quit. Billy tried one day when we were out fishing, but then Charlie just replied, "Bella is fine. The scrubs at the hospital are blue." And like Billy tried to ask him again, but Charlie was all, "THEY ARE BLUE. I KNOW WHAT BLUE LOOKS LIKE, BILLLLLLY!"

...neither Billy nor I understood, and Billy couldn't get him to talk about anything else other than sports and the upcoming fashion week.

Bella, also, was growing more and more withdrawn, even as she seemed less sad. Even less angry. She seemed coldly rational. Like she was planning something.

The thing is... some people plan out big schemes—all the time. They like dreaming big or imagining unspeakable wrath upon their enemies—but they never actually act upon it. Just words.

Bella wasn't that way. Bella was one of those girls that said she was going to do her math homework and then went and did her math homework. She cooked dinner at the same time every night. Her enchiladas were mad-good every time—and she always got the bell peppers really sweet and crispy so that...

Uh, anyway, long story short: Bella's secret machinations scared me unlike anything else. She didn't bluff—she'd throw the knife.

Sorta like the day she made me turn into a wolf and ride out into some old meadow that she and Vamp-dude used to make googly eyes in.

ADVICE: if a girl asks you to go to her and her ex's old haunts—never under any circumstances say "yes."

I said, "yes."

[Start _Night Before Christmas_ rhythm]

_So, I as a wolf, and she on my back,  
we traipsed in ze woods til we happened 'pon a track.  
We entered the meadow, and she jumped to the lawn.  
She sat down with a frown, she lay back with a yawn..._

OK, going to stop rhyming now.

Wait, one more couplet!

_Now Embry, now Jake, now Uley and Paul!  
Now Jarred, now Quil and howl away ALL!_

(Okay, really fucking stopping...)

So, I'm like all headed to the woods and shit to phase, when Bella calls me back with a "Come." Because I'm an idiot, I trot on over (tail wagging all happy-like), at which point she commands, "Phase now."

I shake my doggie head, "_no_." Because phasing "now" would mean I'd be bare-butt-nakie in a breezy field—which would be i-m-p-o-l-i-t-e to say the least, but Bella, serious scary face, says once again, "Now."

Don't ask me why. Just don't. It's embarrassing enough.

I phased.

Next thing I know I'm like scrambling to get my jeans over my tinder because I've had Bella riding me the past hour, and the idea of me being her "mount" and going all doggie-style on her has been playing fancy free in my thoughts and...

So yeah, I'm naked and sporting wood in a field with scary (non-silly) Bella.

But she doesn't say what I think she'll say. Instead she says, "It's really cool when you phase. How do I look when I do it?"

(Scary hot?)

So naturally, I confess to her... "It scares me."

"Oh?" she asks, leaning back and stretching her arms behind her all lazy (shove-my-boobs-skyward) like.

I nod.

"Why?"

"It was like you already disappeared before. Then you started to come back, but then you start to disappear again."

This time Bella is the one who nods, and then she leans back onto the grass so that her hair is splayed all about, and I almost want to reach out and touch it, but then I notice that she's nipping, and this distracts my thoughts until her voice breaks the silence. "Thank you, by the way," she whispers.

(Shaking out my head to regain non-boob consciousness) "For what?"

"For being you."

"Oh." _Well, that's cool, right?_

"Hey, Jake."

"Uh, yeah?"

"You're really good-looking."

_FUCK YEAH!. _"Uh, thanks?"

"You don't look like a sixteen year-old."

"Cool. That's because I'm forty like we decided, right?" Levity. Levity.

"You don't even look like you're _seventeen_."

She was ignoring me, I realized. Except she wasn't. Not all the way (just my unspecial words). She was lost in her own thoughts until she extended an arm out to touch me. Her fingers touched with such care, like she was expecting my skin to burn or jolt her. Then, when they did touch, I shivered because her fingers were cool as they ran down my arm.

"Like you have the flue," she whispered.

"Eh, flue free?" I pointed at myself and chuckled through the tension of the situation.

"I'm going to pretend you're sick."

_Weird_.

But what was weirder when she sat up and scooted over to me.

My _ding. ding. ding!_ warning alert was affecting my breathing.

My _ding. ding. ding!_ hot-girl-near-your-exposed-erection alert was also affecting my breathing... and my junk.

When Bella pulled herself into my lap, I was stick frozen. There was, after all, only my cut-offs between her and my hard-on, and when she sat down—she pushed against—the fabric pressed—I may have whimpered.

"Shhhhh."

"Bella, whatcha do—"

But she cut me off with placing her hand over my mouth. "Shhhh," she repeated. Her breathing was almost perfectly even. "I'm sorry about being so strange about everything. It hasn't been fair to you." I tried to reply to that, but she pressed her hand down with more pressure. "If it weren't for..." She shook her head. "I guess I'm trying to say that I wish I could give you more." Another attempt at a response from me. Another press of a hand. "I want you to kiss me, Jake, but," and then she took her hand away. "No sex. Not that. Can you handle that?"

Before my brain could actually compute that, I "handled" it by kissing her.

Which was funny at first.

Because at first, she was the one caught by surprise. She gasped, and her eyes went wide, and I felt her back go ramrod straight against my palm.

But then she relaxed. She kissed me back. She was so tiny in my arms. Her lips were chapped, especially the bottom one. It practically was scratching against my own, and I had never really kissed anyone before, so I was worried that this whole business might be crap, but then I felt the daub of wet. Tongue.

I opened my mouth. There was more.

Bella, quiet and controlled before, responded in earnest now. Her hands were on me. I don't know where they were before? But like _hands_. Hands. Everywhere. And her kisses were just nuts... sucking and biting and aggressive, like she was trying to drink me in and throw me back, and I just, you know, went with it...?

It was my first kiss, and I was totally cool with just kissing, but like I was bare-assed, so I was also super aware that i had cut-offs a la a widdle loin cloth, and then the inevitable happened 'cause Bella shifted, and well, yeah, my dick sprang worth from the cloth and smacked against her stomach.

I tried to cover it. I reached to pull my jeans back up, but Bella breathed, "Lemme."

She separated her lips from mine and looked down.

Then she looked back up again.

She looked confused, but then her face was blank again.

_Blank = bad_, I deciphered.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to— Are you...?" _Okay?_

"I'm okay?" she sputtered out. Her eyes were huge.

"I hope."

"I've never seen one before."

"I guess they're scary if you haven't?"

"No! I mean—well, yours is perfectly nice—I just..." she trailed off, and her whole face seemed lost in confusion. "We can go now, right?"

"Sure. Sure," I repeated through foggy breaths.

She scooted off my lap.

I ran for the trees. Front covered. Full moon on the back.

When I came back, I was a wolf, and I stayed that way all the way home—even as she slid down off my back and left the woods to run to the front door of her house,

Being a wolf was safer, I decided on my run back.

Heck, maybe being away from Bella was safer (for my heart).

But then as I burst through the trees, I smelled...

_ohmotherfuckingshitcuntdamnitalltohellsfuckingsnatchpack_—!

Icy nauseating sweetness.

It burned my nose.

Fuck.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

**Bella's e-Diary**

**- - - - - - - - - - - -**

I've been reading non-Bella books lately. By non-Bella books I mean I've been alternating between Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_ and _The Awakening_ and _Dracula _and _Madame Bovary_. For the record, Sun Tzu is the only relevant one in the bunch.

Also, I made out with Jacob and saw his Willy.

I will say one thing: kissing with tongue is _soooo_ much better, but I dunno, I guess I wasn't ready for the latter part. It felt... wrong.

Like cheating.

Kissing, not so much. That felt like _revenge_. Because I wanted Edward to kiss me like that, and he never did. Not even close.

But as for the rest...

Jake's Willy waving in the air was a red warning flag for me.

Because I've never seen Edward's...

Isn't that a tragedy?

He fake-loved me, and I never even got to touch his icy, cold schlong.

But I wanted to.

For when I saw Jake's... I realized I still do.

Want Edward's (ice sickle), that is. Cold and dead as it is.

I just need to figure out how to get back to it.

— - - - - - ~ - ———————————————-

Pack Meeting - Sue's Notes

———————————————————————

1. Bella needs an intervention - Leah and Cookies

2. No more cookies allowed in the Clearwater at household - it's bad for Harry's cholesterol - the new, non-vampire doctor told us at Forks Hospital. Bella was nice about it though. She made sure he got sugar-free candies.

3. Crazy ass vampires in town. So far, looks like they're scouting. No known attacks, so far. ("Although we all know that the best defense is a good offense." Thank you, Paul.)

4. Welcome Quil!

5. Patrol schedule

a. Sam does all school day patrols. Paul gets out at 1:30 so he's always on then. Jarred, Quil, and Jake will rotate sick days for the rest. Embry needs to get his GPA up or his mom will "have his balls" so he'll pull an extra night shift every other day.

b. Current strategy is to cover as much ground as possible. Our presence may scare them away.

6. Need Wednesday trip to Goodwill for more 13E, 14 and any really big size shoes. Jake is going to have to learn to sow moccasins if he doesn't stop spontaneously phasing... (and Bella going invisible is NO excuse.)

7. Don't care what Bella or her spooky little vampire friend argue about. Charles is never touching a hair on that Ho-bag Meg Cope. (And Billy Black's opinion on this subject DOES NOT COUNT.)

* * *

**Random Author's note**. Everyone should read _The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian_ by Sherman Alexie because it won the Booker prize for young adults and is like so funny and heart felt and amazing. I laughed. I cried. The cover makes it look like a "boy book" but it's really an everyone-book, so go check out.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Twilight no es mio.

A/N: I loVE aLL of youz insANe beAutiES. yer the BEST. & writing this story is the most fun eveh.

* * *

_Some mongoose in a suit gave Jacob a pen with ink. This is the result. _

_**Entry 6**__:_

_Hey diddle diddle,  
The cat and the fiddle,  
The cow jumped over the moon;  
The little dog laughed to see such sport,  
And the dish ran away with the spoon._

This was what I sang to myself as I lay in dirt, paws up, snout up.

Okay, if I'm honest, it was more like:

_Ruff! oowl! bowl!  
Gr-ruff-ow-oowl!  
Bark-ruff. Hoooo-wooool!  
Ruff-roof-ruff-arrrr-arrrr-ruff!  
Bark-ruff. Hoooo-ruff-woo-wooool!_

So, really, it was totally unintelligible to any human.

But that wasn't the _point_.

The point was to annoy the hell out of the sacred wolf brigade whose collective thoughts were pounding in all parts of my head:

_SHUT-YOUR-MUZZLE-THE-FUCKING HELL UP, JACOB!!!!_ Paul.  
_Wow. Jake. Your internal singing voice is even more off pitch than your external one_. Embry.  
_Why is there a spoon?_ _I never understood that.._. Quil.  
_Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star... _Jarred (humming to himself).

I tuned them out. It was me, the moon, my bad, off-key voice, and the sweet and strong one-gallon pot of Sue's coffee.

I wasn't all that sure that wolves were supposed to drink coffee, to be honest. (I was peeing an _awful _lot.) And the effect it was having on me was... I don't know? Rather bizarre?

Like, how is one supposed to mentally construct this scene? I mean I'm a monster-sized wolf growling out nursery rhymes, while howling at the moon and lapping coffee until I was nothing more than a shaky mess on the grass.

...

Huh. Like I was sloshed?

Oh. Oh, well?

_OH WELL?! DRINKING ON THE JOB IS NOT PERMITTED. The bloodsuckers will eat you! Get off your ass. _Paul_.  
__Yeah, come on, Jake. _Jarred_.  
__Can I get a swig, too? Tired... _Quil_.  
__You've never EVEN been drunk—so how would you know? _Embry (wishing he was smoking a cigarette).

I sighed and stood to run.

Protecting girls who did not want to be protected was so barely worth this.

. . . .. . . . .. . . ............... .. . .... .. .. .. . . . .. .. . . .

**Bella's e-Diary:**

I "met" with Leah today. I say "met," but it was more like a parent-arranged intervention, where they were all like "Lets put our two jilted daughters together and see if their _Bell Jar_ worldviews can kindle feelings of the sisterhood!" Sad. Sorta like juvenile detention centers. (What a great idea: surround bad kids with even worse kids.)

Leah brought a lot of cookies and then some of Harry's fish fry for Charlie. (She said Sue was trying to get anything with the word "fry" in it out of their house, because of Harry's dysfunctional heart valves.) We didn't really say anything at first, mostly because Leah hates me—which to be honest, I was enjoying.

"Hi, Leah."

"Fuck off, Bella."

Then, again, it might be the case that Leah hated everyone.

I decided to be hospitable. "Would you like something to drink? Tea?"

"Eat a fucking cookie."

"Okay."

Silence...

"O+?" I offered dryly.

"That's nastier than fucking diarrhea, just so you know."

Shrug. "I turn invisible. I like that. It means that I'm not powerless."

"Disappearing doesn't make it better."

"On the contrary, it makes it much better. No one's giving you 'pity eyes.'"

"I still don't think it makes it better."

"Oh, it's because he's with her now."

Silence.

"She's nice."

"She's my cousin. I can't completely hate her."

"It's okay if you do."

"Go and fucking vamoose yourself."

"I'd have to slurp down a baggie for that, and I don't mix blood and cookies."

"Ah, yes..." Leah nodded derisively. "That would be _uncivilized_."

I smiled. "I like you, Leah."

"I fucking hate you."

"These are really good cookies."

"You're welcome."

"So, what do you think I should do about the crazy vampires in the area?"

"Hope they murder Sam."

"Good plan."

"The best."

**************************************************

**PHONE LOG:**

_907-340-5298 calls 907-340-5280. No Answer._

_907-340-5298 calls 907-340-5280. No Answer._

_907-340-5298 calls 907-340-5280. No Answer._

_._

Alice (907-340-5298):  
ANSWER YOUR PHONE, EDWARD.

.

_907-340-5298 calls 907-340-5280. No Answer._

_907-340-5298 calls 907-340-5280. No Answer._

_._

Alice (907-340-5298):

OR FINE. JUST TEXT ME BACK.

Edward (907-340-5280):

Leave a broken man to his broken heart.

nn^nn

Alice (907-340-5298):

It's about Bella.

Edward (907-340-5280):

Why is it about Bella? You're supposed to be LEAVING HER ALONE.

Alice (907-340-5298):

I've been corresponding with Charlie.

Edward (907-340-5280):

*GROWL*

Alice (907-340-5298):

Ooh. Impressive. I *SNARL* back at you.

Edward (907-340-5280):

I concede that texting a growl is not impressive;

however, know this:

when we meet again, I will be wearing bell-bottoms  
and  
AND  
they might just be orange.  
Not that you should ever expect to see me again.

Alice (907-340-5298):

Your future has suddenly disappeared.  
YOU KNOW WhY?

Edward (907-340-5280):

Enlighten me.

Alice (907-340-5298):

Actually, I don't know why.

Edward (907-340-5280):

Because you're going to kill me if I wear clementine-colored bell bottoms?

And because I'm a...  
gloomy, glum, heartsick, heavyhearted,  
down in the dumps, melancholic,  
morose, mournful, out of sorts,  
troubled, woebegone vampire  
who pushed away the love of his life  
and IS NOT HANDLING IT WELL?!!?

Alice (907-340-5298):

No. Can I call you back?

Edward (907-340-5280):

Very funny.

Edward (907-340-5280):

Alice?

Edward (907-340-5280):

Where'd you go?

.

_907-340-5280 calls 907-340-5298. No Answer._

_._

Edward (907-340-5280) text to (907-340-5260):

Can you go attend your wife?

Jasper (907-340-5260):

???

Headin' back to the ranch...

Jasper (907-340-5260):

E, what'd you do to my wife?

Edward (907-340-5280):

Nothing.

Jasper (907-340-5260):

She's twitching!

WHAT DID YOU DO?

Vampires don't TWITCH.

Edward (907-340-5280):

Insulted her hegemonic fashion tendencies?  
Out-adjectived her?  
Made animal-noise interjections?

Jasper (907-340-5260):

WTF  
Wait. She's freaked.  
Text you back in a minute.

Jasper (907-340-5260):

Huh. There smtg screwin up yer future.

Edward (907-340-5280):

And what would that be?

Jasper (907-340-5260):

Bella.

Edward (907-340-5280):

LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS.  
You tried to EAT her.  
You are NOT allowed to talk about her.

Jasper (907-340-5260):

As long as Alice twitches,  
I will stand my ground.  
Smtg is up with Bella—that's WHY Alice is twitching.

Edward (907-340-5280):

What's wrong with BELLA?

Jasper (907-340-5260):

You ever track down that red-head?

Edward (907-340-5280):

Not really...?

Jasper (907-340-5260):

Well, that'd be your problem.

Edward (907-340-5280):

She wouldn't...  
But...  
Shit.  
Tell Alice to text me if there are any updates.

Jasper (907-340-5260):

Will do.  
Meet you in Forks?

Edward (907-340-5280):

...

Yes.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: 1. Check out the slash/backslash contest that angstgoddess003 and I are holding. 2. I'm a participant in Fandom gives back, so I'm up for bid and stuff! Check out at thefandomgivesback .com. Finally, 3. I just began posting "The Price of Permanence" the Edward POV companion to Sin & Incivility, which a little novella I wrote last December that I'm still quite proud of. It's a "pornella" as I jokingly call it, since it's a PWP novella--although it's mostly just short and intense drama with strong Austenian themes. Anyhoo, I'm posting on Wednesdays and Saturdays for that one, so tune in for scheduled programming. Heh.

* * *

_The Enlightened manuscript of one Jacob Black, the young coxcomb who figured out that sad girls weren't the end-all be-all, although... rather belatedly._

**Entry 7:**

::clears throat::

After much reflection, I can say that Bella had a deleterious effect on my hormone-driven, teenage boy self-esteem. 'Cuz, as you might imagine, a girl goggling at your dick like it's a rabid prairie dog tends to cause a young lad some degree of personal discomfiture.

Body image and stuff.

But then I discovered that _other girls_ didn't look at me that way.

Case in point:

One day, I skipped class early to meet Bella after school. We were supposed to do cool stuff, notably watch old werewolf movies! Which, watching werewolf movies as an actual werewolf is like... I don't know, gallows humor or something. Sort of like how all jokes about death (even the bad ones) are funny when you're about to die or get kicked in the nuts or whatever? Well, anyway, all werewolf movies were funny now that I was an actual werewolf—and the more 1960's camp the movie was—_the better_. The very first time we watched them, I laughed to the point my lips went blue. Bella—_occasionally_—would chuckle when someone's neck exploded in blood (i.e. ketchup). I say "chuckle," since I don't want to really say she laughed, as her "chuckles" were so faint and dry-sounding that I always half-wanted to offer her water or tea, which could not exactly be encouraging to someone who's finally engaging in a positive (?) emotional response.

Anyway, so on the start of this pre-planned movie day, I was engaging in delinquent, school-skipping behavior, and I was out in the front of good old Forks High, minding my own beeswax and sitting on my bike, when these two chicks walk up.

One had, like, butch short blond hair but was really skinny, and she asked me, "Who are you?" in this really nasal tone.

It was really fucking bitchy, but like, I look up at her and her friend (who is wearing _neon pink—w_e're talking dress, lipstick, purse, shoes, and so on—PINK), and they actually don't look mean or rude or anything… they look "appraising."

"I'm waiting for Bella?"

"Uh, why?" eyesore-pink friend-girl at her side asks.

I decide I don't like her, and not just because she's neon. "Because I said."

"Echk?!" she and her friend give me the aghast-girl sound.

"Huh, you two did that in chorus."

Hot pink girl turns her nose up at me, but blond girl has her hand on her hip, and she says, "It's just that we had yet to discover that Bella had once again condescended to talking to, you know, _human beings_. We thought she was still lost to her co-dependent sob fest or whatever." She flips her hand out and rolls her eyes at the same time, as if to show to the max how completely uncaring and what a hard-ass bitch she is.

First, I almost laugh at the "human being" part. Second, it's painful to admit, but Ms. Nasty Tone is really fucking hot. I ignore this, though, and I sorta try to defend my friend, "Uh, she talks to people?"

"Well, I can see why she talks to you."

"Uh, and why do you say that?"

Blonde girl rolls her eyes again.

_Hhhhhot._

"You're... _tall_," she says with pursed lips, eyes narrowed, and her arms crossed, but then she uncrosses her arms. "Lauren," she introduces herself, and then she extends her hand, knuckles-up like an offering.

It's a tad bit outrageous to go all aristocratic-gentry on the native kid from the local rez, but she's hot, and she's totes hitting on me, so I take her hand, and lean down and press my lips, smirking the entire time because for some nitwit reason I'm enabling this charade. "Jacob."

Lauren smiles. It looks almost menacing, but in that predatory, take-me-behind-the-science-building-and-slam-me-against-the-bricks sort of menacing. Like, Jacob-is-glad-his-jacket-is-long-and-covering-his-lap sort of menacing.

Bella decides at this moment to join us.

She walks up.

She looks from Lauren and pink chick to me and then back again.

Lauren holds up her hand and gives her a pretty prat-like finger wave. "Bella... We were just talking to your friend Jacob."

Bella's brows knit, but then she shrugs and mutters, "Right," before throwing her leg over the seat of the bike.

"Uh, I guess I'll see you..." I trail off, not knowing what to say to my new acquaintances.

Lauren, clearly imitating Bella, gives an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders and says, "Right."

I shake my head.

_Girls_...

I kick the bike into gear. Behind me, Bella wraps her arms around my waist.

We roll on out.

* * *

**Bella's e-Diary**

Jacob came over yesterday.

I needed a plan for Jacob. Either, Plan A: some solid reasoning, or well... Plan B. I spent a few spare seconds contemplating making out with him. Yes, despite the aforementioned Willy scare. Because I more or less felt like his soul was in jeopardy.

After all, he'd been flirting with _Lauren Mallory_.

Jessica, I could understand.  
Angela—were she not with Ben—I might even welcome.  
BUT LAUREN MALLORY.

Jacob was flipping through various werewolf DVDs when I yanked him upstairs.

"Sit," I commanded him, pointing to my bed.

He raised his brows at me. I think the doggie commands were starting to wear a bit.

"Lauren Mallory is a nasty person. She's a _bitch_," I declared.

"Considering that you keep giving me the Fido treatment, telling me to stay away from a 'female dog," and he totally grinned at his bad joke, "might be at odds with your overall message."

I glared at him.

He gave me a stupid grin back.

_Fuck_.

Plan B.

I jumped him.

Jake having really good reflexes worked out well because he caught me. Then I grabbed the sides of his face and I kissed him. Soft at first—_Edward-like_ soft kisses—but then _hard_and with half-open mouths and with so much teeth that it sometimes hurt, but then Jacob—fucking Jacob—is going along with the kiss but also starts tapping me on the shoulder—_while we're making out_—like he's trying to get my attention. Then he pulls back, and he's all like, "Bella-I'm-not-sure-we-shhhh—" but he cuts off again because I bite his bottom lip.

So, then, _back to_ making out, Plan B, or however you would have it, and Jacob is making funny sounds—like he's trying to argue with me—even while not stopping the kissing—but it's this weird sort of resigned set of sounds like music heard from underwater—and I realize that the Jake isn't going to stop whatever it is that he's on about, so I break from his mouth with a sucking pop.

"What?" I demand.

"Back at ya."

"Huh?"

"What is this?" Jake crosses his arms, trying to look cross—although his exhilarated breathing takes away the effect.

"Me, _protecting you_. I don't want you hankering after that blond bint! She's a horrible person."

"And how is that?"

"She's shallow and catty and... blonde," I finish with a mutter, and now I'm thinking of Tanya—and Edward's distractions—and how I more or less wish I could go invizzy vamp on both their asses.

But then Jacob counters ever so intelligently, "So?"

"_So_, she'll eat you for breakfast and spit you out."

Then Jake nods. "Sure, sure, because that's so much better than me having my heart fucked with by my friend who makes out with me for kicks whenever she wants to—"

Jacob holds up his finger when my mouth flies open to protest, and then he continues, "And maybe you don't mean it or whatever, but _seriously_, Bella—you're still hung up on that bloodsucker who dumped you—and dragging me around by a leash as some form of security blanket doesn't exactly qualify as being my protective friend—if anything, with crazy red-haired vampires running around, maybe you should be aware that I'm the one who's protecting _you."_

I stare at him for a minute.

Then the anger—the anger that's always there—just wells up and I let out one long scream.

I'm stomping the floor with my foot, and I'm screaming and cursing—and_Pride and Prejudice_is on my desk—so I pick up the cover and rip so that only prejudice is in my fist, and pride is shredded with splayed pages and binding on the floor, and Jacob is staring at me with apoplectic awe, like someone watching a bomb going off—and then I go to reach for another Austen novel—but my heel comes down hard in just the wrong spot and...

And my floor board comes soaring up and smacks me in the knee.

I fall hard onto my floor.

I'm crying.

It hurts. Another bruise. More scratches.

Jacob is patting the top of my head like he would a ferocious toddler.

I'm still crying when Jacob reaches down to move the board back. He's about to slide it back in place, when I hear him mutter beneath his breath, "Lot of crap down here."

His comment makes no sense, so I look down, and there at the bottom...

CD case.

Pictures.

Letters.

I reach around Jacob and yank them out. Loose photographs go flying around the room.

I'm not crying anymore, though. I'm completely in control.

I open the CD case and grab both sides of the CD. I snap it into two mismatched crescents.

I start ripping pictures.

Shredding so-called love letters.

Both my room and Jacob are covered in a blanket of confetti and scrap.

I stop seething, and I look around. I've made a mess, but nothing has really changed.

_I need to get the fuck out._

I reach into my bag. I pull out an insulated thermos, and from inside the thermos, I pull out a red baggie. I rip at the corner of the plastic with my teeth, and then I'm sucking and drinking, pulling in the nauseating, though now familiar, taste.

Jacob doesn't even try to stop me.

I run for the door.

I walk down the stairs.

I fade away with every ill-chosen step.

* * *

**Jasper Whitlock Reconnaissance Report**

15:47:04: Sights Target exiting school. Encounter with two human females, and male. Gets on motorbike with male. Leaves parking lot.

***Note: Strange smells. BAD, strange smells. Must be from male--he appears to be from Quileute reservation. (Ask Alice about that treaty business.) Alpha female smells good. Pink female smells good too, but the pink exhibitionism is frankly scary--no matter what Alice says about orange being scarier.**

15:53:43: Target and male exit via motorbike. Leave bike in bushes behind house.

15:57:29: Target makes two turkey sandwiches. Partial visual. Obscured by trees.

16:10:04: Targets drags male up to room.

16:03:30: Targets engages in physical contact with male.

***Note: Male should expect to have his balls ripped off by a certain bronze-haired vampire.**

16:18:23: Screaming. Creaking boards.

***Note: No visual. But fears for male, not female.**

16:19:29: Smell of blood erupts into the air.

***Note: But the smell is neither male's nor Bella's. **

16:21:02: Sounds of passage. Front door slams open. Truck door opens, and yet, Target is not visible.

16:22:49: Truck starts to drive away...

***Note: Prepares to follow, but then...**

16:22:59: Front door thrown open again. Male emerges. Stands for a moment. Looks like he has a serious case of blue balls.

16:24:01: Male begins to remove clothing.

***Note: Considers making an anonymous call to a certain Chief Swan.**

16:24:49: At a complete loss… as male turns into large ugly beast.

***Note: Edward may not be able to rip off his balls easily. Will require at least some effort.**

16:24:52: Not following Bella. Running. Male-thing in pursuit.

16:27:03: Enters town. Lots of people. Cloud-cover. Evades he-wolf creature.

***Note: Always use one's ancient brilliance to outsmart idiots. Male's clothes still on Target's front porch.**

16:27:29: Makes impromptu, anonymous call to Chief Swan. Reports possible "flasher" near Swan residence.

***Note 1: Hah-Hah.**

***Note 2: What the fuck is up with Bella?**

* * *

***Just in case this wasn't clear: the crap that Bella pulled out from the floorboards is her lullaby CD and birthday party pictures which Edward hid before she left. SMeyer never really did much with that plot line in New Moon...


	8. Chapter 8

*Thanks to americnxidiot for beta'ing away my (drunken) typos, and also brainstorming with me. Brainstorming kudos also goes to Jennyfly/Thallium81 (although I'm sorry, Jenny. Edward will _not _be joining the symphony). Next, I want to rec crackfic one-shots by two ladies, both for some inexplicable reason involving MPREG. Both are hilarious. First americnxidiot's crackpuppet In the Name of Science (under the name crackbabby--and yes, I have no qualms outting you, Ms. Idiot) and second, Inconceivable by gallantcorkscrews, which was featured in the slash contest--which is open for voting by the way! So, go vote! Then a final thanks to MeadowC for pimpin' this story on Twilightheaded. In other news, I've been working on my FGB prompt, and writing epilogues to PoP that I keep trashing.

Sorry I've been so slow to update... :-\

* * *

_Bow-wow-wow Yipee-Yo Yippee-Yay. Seth needs to cut it with the bad rap..._

**Entry 8:**

**"When a dog barks at the moon, then it is religion; but when he barks at strangers, it is patriotism!" **~David Starr Jordan

The absurd event in Bella's bedroom left me reeling, and I felt like doing something odd and lupine to cope (like howling at the moon). That was, until I stepped out the front door. The wind was blowing from the west—and the smell that hit my nose made my insides freeze.

_Diarrheal snow cone_.

(At least that's what it smelled like to me.)

CRAZY RED-HAIRED STALKER VAMPIRE OUT TO GET BELLA!

So, I totally phased in a burst of t-shirt and jeans—and my final pair of sneakers (shit).

Then, I was after her.

I mean _him_.

He had blond hair.

CRAZY RED-HAIRED STALKER VAMPIRE HAS A COMPADRE!!!

I tried to get the others to come and help, but they were too far away.

No matter!

I chased him onwards!

HOOOOOWL.

But then something bad happened.

I was gaining on him, closer and closer.

But then he headed into town.

I was going to run him down.

But...

_Jake!_ _You cannot maul a vampire in downtown, Forks._

_Wait for us, Jake! Wait for us!_

And then the final voice—Sam's voice thundering through my mind and all of the others:

_**S-T-O-P.**_

So, I stopped.

And the vampire got away.

* * *

Alice (907-340-5298) to Jasper:

Where'd you go?

I could barely see you for 10 min there.

Were you were running?

Jasper (907-340-5260) to Alice:

Bella left and

her friend turned into Bigfoot.

Then he chased me.

Alice (907-340-5298)

...

Funny.

Jasper (907-340-5260)

Seriously.

I made an entry.

"16:24:49: At a complete loss... as male turns into large ugly beast."

Alice (907-340-5298)

What kind of ugly beast?

Jasper (907-340-5260)

Large, wolf-like, fast.

Definitely had a snout and a tail.

Alice (907-340-5298)

Hmmm....

I think it's the wolves that Carlisle

made the treaty with.

The Quileute.

Jasper (907-340-5260)

The most probable answer.

But why didn't you see me?

Alice (907-340-5298)

!!!

It makes sense, though, doesn't it?

THE WOLVES ARE WHY I CAN'T SEE!

They're why I can't see Bella!

She's been spending time with them!

It explains that cryptic email she sent!

Jasper (907-340-5260)

Huh.

Neat.

Right, so what's Bella doing now?

I think something's wrong with her.

Alice (907-340-5298)

She must be with a wolf.

I can't see her.

Jasper (907-340-5260)

Um, well, she didn't leave with the wolf.

And I didn't really see her when she left.

I think she was hiding?

Alice (907-340-5298)

Wait. I'm getting something.

Jasper (907-340-5260)

Waiting...?

Alice (907-340-5298)

There's something else with Bella...

Jasper (907-340-5260)

???

Alice (907-340-5298)

A vampire.

Jasper (907-340-5260)

Is it Edward?

Alice (907-340-5298)

No...

Jasper (907-340-5260)

Shiiiite.

* * *

Bella's e-Diary

* * *

By the time I clicked off the ignition on the truck, I was capable of admitting that my untimely discovery of the CD and photos had been... _ill-borne_, to say the least. I could accept that. But while I may have been nearing the end of my volcanic temper tantrum, I was not, as they say, "out of the woods" yet.

Rather, I was standing at the edge of them.

When you're alone, the woods always sound alive. In the Pacific Northwest, where we have a veritable "rain forest," there's always water moving, whether from the echo of distant streams or from rainwater collecting in leaves until it brims and the edges collapse and the water spills down onto lower branches, leaves, and the forest floor. The moss, which covers everything, muffles all the details, so that it just sounds like the slow swallowing of drink or the gurgling of a stomach. Creepy and alive. The rustle of the branches could pass for panting gasps. The chirps of the birds and buzz-buzz of insects might sound like whispers and hints. Then there's the smell. It smells like mold, but not in a bad way. It smells like life is keeping ahead of the mold. Like something can't even die before it's eaten and digested and starts growing again.

I entered this breathing forest.

I wasn't really invisible anymore. The effects of my earlier bag of blood had mostly faded, and I stumbled ahead as a ghostly specter—half there and half not—which in this situation was metaphorically literal.

I stumbled more than once, and sharp pebbles cut into my knee caps as I righted myself and pushed ahead.

I had been there before—with Jacob—but getting there again seemed impossible.

I followed instinct—ignoring my fears but ducking beneath low tangles of vines and forcing myself over each new piling of boulders.

When the sweltering green suddenly vanished, I found myself in the meadow. Open air and the sudden cooling of my sweat on my cheeks and forehead hit me first. When I fell into the long, silty blades of grass, I tasted my tears mixing with the dirt and saliva and sweat.

At some point, I fell back, my hair splaying among the grass and ferns, which tickled and itched at my scalp. I searched the sky, looking for something distinctive, but only found the gray blanket of clouds. Shapeless and without intention.

That was, until I saw a pair of red eyes suddenly looking down at me.

I studied them for a moment, at first happily lost in the milky contrast of the diamond skin to the bloody threat held in the irises. But then the swaying black hair drew my attention, and I asked as a question, "Laurent?"

"Yes."

"It is you."

"It is."

"Are you thirsty?"

"Yes." His eyes gleamed.

I should have felt fear, I realized, but instead I felt a strange kinship.

He couldn't help what he was, just as I couldn't help my own personal pretzel. "Would you like to share a baggie?" I offered, and I reached into my bag and pulled out a plastic bio hazard bag.

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes disbelieving, before his expression cleared and he asked, "What _kind_ is it?"

"Type, you mean?"

"Yes."

"AB-Negative."

"Oh good," he agreed with cheer.

I gave him my baggie, which he ripped open and squeezed so that a bit of it pooled in his outstretched tongue. I relaxed when he plopped down beside me, drinking with swift satisfaction. His throat shivered as he drank, and I shivered too, though not out of fear.

When he was done, I glared rather sullenly at the empty bag and muttered, "You killed it."

He laughed (a tad hysterically).

I said, "It's okay. I have another one."

I did. A-positive, I tore with my teeth and drank.

When I set down my bag, he was staring at me, jaw dropped.

"What?" I asked, setting my bag before him so that he could finish it off.

He didn't say anything. He just looked from me to the baggie.

"What?" I asked again.

"I'm not sure where to start. First, you drank... blood. You're a human—and yet you— Then, I can _hear _you. I can smell you. I can almost taste you, but I can't _see _you," and then he extended his hand. His cool fingers hurt as they bruised my shoulder—his swift movements too rough.

"I'm here," I insisted. My voice was almost petulant as I tried to ignore the pain.

"I can smell you bruising."

"You just smell like nice cologne."

He laughed again. "You _are_ special. A blood-drinking, disappearing human girl."

I rolled my eyes, which I realized he couldn't see, so I muttered, "Glad to know someone thinks I'm special."

"What?" he blinked as if coming back to reality.

"I hate men—_sorry_—no offense."

Laurent's face clouded, and I'd have almost said he looked saddened, except that then his face tensed, and his fist smacked the earth, sending out reverberations that made both me and the surrounding firs tremble with the force of it. "I hate men, too," he declared.

"Didn't you hook up with one of the Denali sisters?" I asked in confusion.

Laurent turned to me, his eyes seeming to triangulate to mine by smell more than sight. "I did—Irina, but..."

"But?" I urged him.

"But I realized something."

"Realized what?"

Laurent sighed before dipping his head between his knees and fisting his hair. "I realize that she wasn't the one for me."

"Ah."

"Yes. 'Ah.'" He made air quotes.

"Well, uh, did you find out who is?"

"Perhaps," he breathed out through the side of his mouth.

"Not to be a total bore, but 'perhaps' is not real specific—sorta like 'Ah' or whatever."

"MEN!" he exclaimed. "I liked... I mean, ugh, I mean I like phalluses." Laurent ducked his head between his knees again.

"Phall_i_?"

"Cocks, " he waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I like _phalli_, too, 'specially the icy sparkly ones."

Laurent snorted, before asking, "But I thought you hated men?"

"I should be specific. My vampire man left me."

Laurent rolled his eyes again. "No, he didn't."

His retort annoyed me. "Yes, I think he very much _did_."

"Vampires can't leave their mates—not really," and then his head suddenly jerked up as he scanned around the meadow, as if looking for Edward under a bush.

"Well, I haven't seen the asswipe in six months." I sighed.

"He'll be back," Laurent insisted. "It's the nature of the beast," and with that rather retarded pronouncement, he threw his head back and laughed.

I frowned at him. He'd spilled his guts, and I hadn't _laughed_.

He seemed to sense my discomfort though as he smiled and said, "Oh, we scorned ones, what desperate lives we lead."

"Indeed," I concurred, and I could hear the sadness returning to his voice, so I reached into my bag again. "Do you prefer positive or negative?" I asked in my most comforting tone.

His head perked up. "Do you have any A-negative?"

"I do." I handed him the bag with a soft smile.

"Oh, goooood," he hissed rapturously. "It is my absolute favorite."


	9. Chapter 9

***This is so weird, and possibly not remotely funny. I'm sorry. You all are amazing.**

**Sane people, please leave us to our mad little ways. Thx. Cookies. Run along.**

**Again. Sorry.**

* * *

**Entry 9:**

So, as it turns out, Charlie found my shredded clothing on his front porch. This made him call Billy. Billy told me about this phone conversation when I got home.

It went something like this:

.

"Billy, something's wrong!"

(Billy is folding laundry.) "Oh, what's up?"

"Bella's not home, and there are clothes and shoes bits shredded all over the front porch. I found something that looks like the front panel of a t-shirt that reads 'Powwow 2003.' I think it might be Jacob's!"

Silence. Then...

"Are you sure it says 2003?"

"Dunno. Could be 2002? The end is shredded off."

"It's only that Sue said the budget was tight, so we didn't order any shirts in 2003..."

"Billy, I'm _trying _to tell you that your kid could be in _danger_."

"Naw, now don't get your panties in a twist. Kid'z fine. He just called."

"...did he explain why his clothes were shredded on my porch?"

"Charlie, you have no way of knowing that the cloth was from Jacob's shirt or that there was any funny business afoot."

"...There are _tatters_ of shoe and jeans and shirt on my porch, and my daughter is _not_ present. I think I have a sheriff's duty and a father's right to assume any sort of 'funny business' that I—"

"Charlie—_Charlie_. As a father of three, myself, I understand—I just don't think we should jump to any conclusions."

.

Anyway... long story short, I had to call Charlie as soon as I got home and make up a story. It was a bad story. I "explained" to him that I had been making a campfire with Bella on the charred spot on the side lawn and got distracted, so our mess got left there...

It sounded pretty lame to me, but something about my mentioning the charred spot silenced Charlie. He sputtered, mumbled something that sounded like "orangutan." At least I think so. The phone made weird crackle sounds.

Well, whatever.

Because then I drove into town with Sam and Embry, and we ran into Lauren Mallory, her weird too-pink friend, and a gaggle of girls in short skirts.

* * *

Bella (and Laurent)'s Wrath upon Edward Cullen Brainstorming Session

* * *

**1. Get Bella Turned into a (real) werewolf**

**Action Plan: **Hot wire and "charge it!" all the way to Vladivostok. Wait for full moon. Listen for howls. Howl back. Hide Laurent in tree. (Give him many baggies beforehand for prep.) Get bitten. Get saved. Magicify werewolf!

**Advantages**: SHE WILL NEVER BE YOURS! -L.

I'll be big, strong, and not clumsy. -B.

Edward will be singl—I mean, _singing_ a new tune. -L.

**Disadvantages**: This crazy Volturi bastard named Caius will try to eat you. -L

Only get cool monster powers on the full moon -B.

It might be a bit of a trick to find a werewolf who will change you and not eat you. -L.

They're ugly, aren't they? -B.

I think so. -L. (And they smell like rancid potatoes.)

**2. Convince Edward that Bella is a Lesbian Cheerleader**

**Action Plan**: Bella and Laurent shop online. Bella sucks girl-face.

**Advantages**: Cute outfit. -L.

Um... this was not my idea. -B.

Edward will be singl—sing, sing, singing a new tune. -L. (*sings*)

Why do you keep saying that? And why are you singing? -B.

**Disadvantages**: Edward might secretly have a wild fantasy come true... *sniff* -L.

I'd have to make out with girls. -B.

(What about that Leah girl? She seemed nice the way you described her... -L.)

(She scares me. In addition, I'm pretty sure she tastes like cookies. -B.)

I'd have to wear that shrunken outfit. My inner thigh jiggle would show. I'm so pale. -B.

Moreover, um... I'd never pass as a cheerleader. I'd inevitably fly off into the bleachers. -B.

**3. Convince Edward that His Franken Spunk Utilized Its Vampiric Song to Impregnate Bella's Ova While They Were Making Out, and Any Day Now She Will Deliver His Offspring**

**Action Plan:**Email Alice Cullen fake pictures of Bella with a melon under her shirt.

**Advantages**: It Explains Why You Are Stealing from the Red Cross. -L

Edward would feel so GUILTY. *Cackles* -B.

**Disadvantages**: I'd have to wear a baby bump, wouldn't I? -B.

(You could say that the baby only manifests while you are invisible. -L.)

This won't work. -B.

Edward might realize that playing with fem—I mean—HUMANS is dangerous and that he should stick with non-impregnable vampires. -L.

I'd be like the "Virgin Bella," Meh. -B.

**4. Bella has bestial backdoor wolf sex with Jacob the Wolf!**

**Action Plan:** Dance naked in front of the moon! Rub bacon grease on breasts! Wear a studded collar!

EW, LAURENT. NO! I said, ;-ei**r**uaw**e**oi jldk**v**_ld__##$^&%$&*^%

**5. Bella Runs Off to Tahiti with Laurent, and They Both Date/Drink Bronze-Bodied Males!**

**Action Plan**: Get to Tahiti and begin debauching!

**Advantages**: Bronze Bodied Males! Drinking! - L.

Tahiti is supposed to be nice! -L.

**Disadvantages **– NONE! -L.

Bronze makes me think of Edward… -B. (*sniff*) (It's okay, dear. Remember _bent over men_. –L.)

Money. -B. (I'll just rob the first schmo we come across. -L.)

Killing people. -B. (Don't be such a softie! - L.)

I do not tan. Neither do you. You _sparkle_. -B.

(Oh, well, huh. Now, _that _is a bother... - L.)

**6. Bella Changes into a Vampire**

**Action Plan**: Bite Bella. _Boring._

**Advantages**: You'll be fast and invisible. - L.

You won't want to eat me. - B.

You'll be extra pretty! (Not that you aren't now, dear.) - L.

I'll be able to hunt down Edward. -B.

**Disadvantages**: Bella will be able to hunt down Edward. -L. (Why is that a disadvantage? -B.) (He might hurt you again, dear. -L.)

Bella might eat people. -B.

Red eyes. -B. (_Ruby_, darling. Say "ruby." -L.)

Jacob won't like Bella Anymore. -B.

Becoming a Vampire is a mite painful. - L.

I might eat my dad. -B. (That would suck. By the way, your dad's hot. The 'stache. The gun. *Swoons* - L.)

Oh. Wait, Victoria would be so pissed at me if you became a vampire! -L.

...

...

WAIT. What? -B.

Oh. My. See, I'd totally forgotten about that. You shared your baggie with me so I pushed the completely troublesome mate-for-a-mate business to the wayside. Taking about business while dining is so very gauche, don't you think? -L.

Why are you still hanging out with Victoria? - B.

Oh. God. Such a mess. I wanted to get away from Irina so I used Victoria as an excuse. Naturally, she completely failed to tell me about this absurd infestation of _Clifford_-sized dogs you have going down around here. Just imagine. If you hadn't told me, they could have caught and used me for their chew toy! - L.

Well, I did tell you, and I gave you a baggie, so seriously... -B.

It's just that Victoria is, well... grieving... - L.

James tried to _eat_me. -B.

It was very rude, I know—_especially _during a baseball game—_and_ on another coven's territory. Despicable, really. I'll have you know I've told Victoria my opinions on the matter. -L.

But she still wants to eat me. And why me? Why not Edward? -B.

James always chased other women. I think Victoria's still angry. Maybe, I should say something, but I was hoping a bit of time would help her heal, you know? - L.

Oh. Well, I wish she'd leave me be. I have my own man issues. -B.

Don't we all, honey. Don't we all. - L.

—————————————

From: Alice_in_Jasper__wonderland(at)gmail(dot)com  
To: cswan(at)forkspd(dot)org  
Date: 11/17/2005 20:05  
Subject: It's all fucking gone clockwork orange at this point.

* * *

Dear Charlie,

Hide. Run. Get to a safe place.

Take Your Gun.

(And _do not_ go to Ms. Cope's.)

xoxo,

Alice x-(

——————————————————————————————————————  
Friend me!: Twitter. Facebook. BLOG. MySpace.  
_Crystal balls. Tarot. Reading Tea Leaves. Horoscopes.  
— __What do all of these have in common?  
IDIOTS WHO ANNOY ME.  
**Halloween is over. ******__Stop _**wearing it. Just—STOP—it!  
——————————————————————————————————————**

The Poetry of Edward Cullen

No. 89

Once upon a noontime rainy.  
I came across a dame ungainly.  
Her cheeks be red; her skin, snowflake.  
She did so smell like rare beefsteak,  
I wouldst chomp her down like good fruitcake.

But no alas! I am not such a ghoul!  
I fled to Alaska amid the cold and cool.  
I braved the blond and female beast.  
And though my hunger wouldn't cease,  
I made myself ignore the toothsome feast.

Then fate did bring me back.  
And I doth fell in love with my rib stack.  
Even though I wanted to drain her dry,  
Even though I wanted to sex her high,  
I refrained so that she'd not die.

But then my bro would have _ate _her.  
So I spiriteth us away to keep her safer.  
But I missed her so. I missed her so.  
Each second be agonized vertigo.  
I write this poem to let you know!

But now it ends!  
Now I go to search and find.  
Now I go to make her mine!

_And now, dear readers, we move onto the final Act._

(Presupposing there are actually Acts in this mess…)


	10. Chapter 10

Copyright. Not mine. Word?

* * *

**On milk shakes and pickles and… well, you'll see.**

**Entry 10:**

So, I'd never really coveted Sam's _chieftain, pack leader, I-am-the-ALPHA's_ (I've decided ALPHA must always be uppercased.) job until the day that the shit hit the fan.

Um. It goes like this... Following the epic trippy Charlie phone call, Embry showed up at my door.

Naturally, he was looking for food.

"I ate the last of the macaroni," he explained, while ravaging-raping-pillaging the paltry stores of my pantry.

"But didn't your mom make you make like... nine gallons of cheese-glopped pasta?"

Billy'd told me she went straight to a local dairy to get the milk and cheese. Skip that fucker middle man. Billy had been impressed by her inventiveness on this.

"Seven max, and anyway, I'm trying to stop smoking. I think it's making me even hungrier."

"Cool... although we heal fast and stuff? So like can't you pass off the lung cancer and leave me some peanut butter crackers???"

"My mom said I need to save more money for shoes, and uh, cigarettes are ass expensive."

"Oh, I got a plan for that. I have a change bucket to save for mine. I put all my change in there—and the next time I pop the soles off, I can use my change bucket."

Embry was giving my jar containing mostly pennies a pitying look. "We need jobs."

I shrugged.

That's when Sam showed up.

"I need to talk to you," he growled at me.

Ooooh, Sam's big bad voice. "Scary."

(Okay, a little scary.) I _may _have rolled my eyes at him.

Anyway, so Sam tells Embry and me that he's going to take us out for food. This is mad suspicious because like... going off the rez means he wants to say shit that's either pack-related or flat out annoying.

But whatever, we go.

We ended up going to The Pine Steeple Cafe, better known to us as The White People's Cafe (especially since it's in a building that used to be a church… yeah WEIRD). But unlike the small store we have going on the rez, the Deli actually makes good milk shakes. Big ones! Like-this-is-why-heart-disease-is-the-number-one-cause-of-death-in-the-United-States BIG, big ones.

So fucking awesome.

Right. So we walked in, (I had to duck through the low entry.) and then I saw them: Lauren bitch pants, pinko-fashionista, and some other girl with dark brown hair that was dissecting her napkins into shriveled bits.

Apparently, this caused me to stare. Because...

"Jacob," Sam called. "Jacob."

This failed to affect my focused-on-a-hot-girl sensibilities.

Thus, Sam barked, "JACOB!"

And yeah... Like, his ALPHA tone was probably the only way anyone could have snapped my tit-locked brain out of its testosterone-drowned fixation, but _still_—I was NOT the only one who noticed Sam's ALPHA voice. Not at all. Because everyone in the diner, they all stopped, and then their eyes flicked toward us, and I got to tell you, it was like dominoes falling or grass bending with the sun or lemurs doing that group goggle a la Animal Planet. Thus, please visualize along with me: in sequence, they all turned and looked. Lauren, pinky, and the brunette napkin butcher, all included.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No. No. Cuz then my nostrils flared, and I couldn't stop myself. I sniffed.

And wanted to jump out of my skin.

Cuz the smells...

(They were not the sorta smells one should notice in polite company.)

I'm being whiny without being specific, but to be straight, basically, it smelled like the whole room went into heat.

A pheromone fiesta!

All because of Sam's I-AM-THE-BIGGEST-DICK-IN-THE-ROOM ALPHA voice.

...and well, I shouldn't be too hard on the guy, because when Sam noticed it, he seemed a bit flustered.

As his Beta, I had to save him.

"Yes, Sam?" I asked with my most innocent, sixteen-year-old expression.

"Our table is ready," he said in a slow, oh-my-God-you-are-so-fucking-getting-blamed-for-that sorta voice.

_Menace.._. Ouch.

Even Embry was looking sympathetic.

Anyway, we sat down and ordered a small whale's weight in food. Our waitress was looking all flustered at first, smiling too much at Sam, but then she started to frown as her hand got tired from all the writing on her pad.

I thought about making a joke about that, but eh…

Um, yeah, it seemed Sam wanted to talk about the Cullens over French fries and chocolate shakes.

It went like this: treaty, treaty, blah, blah, blah. **I am the ALPHA**. Treaty. Jake your love-bunny issues with Bella are going to be a problem. Blah. Blah. Treaty. Can't trust the white man. Especially when he has really sharp teeth. Treaty. It's a good thing you're quitting smoking, Embry. Leeches suck. (Literally, hah. (And yes I've told that one before but it's still funny, _okay_?)) These milk shakes are delicious. Duh. Emily makes better ones. Of course, she does. But for sure, they'd be better with the milk that Embry's mom gets from that local dairy. Right. Bella. We'll work with Charlie and Billy on Bella. Fishing. The river. Treaty lines. Are you both keeping up with school? ALPHAS don't _need_ to worry about school. Emily should worry about school though. Leah is such a bitch. Treaty. Blah, blah…

So, yeah, boring and condescending.

Meanwhile, I lose focus and start fucking around with my curly fries and pickle. (P.S. Curly fries FTW!)

It is only after my pickle has successfully battled foul curly fry into the ketchup pit that Sam notices I am not paying attention to him.

"Jake, what the fuck are you doing?"

I look up to see Sam giving me an enraged ALPHA glare. "Er… would you judge me if I told you that I was planning battle tactics?"

"I'm judging you for bouncing a French fry on your plate—while flogging it with a pickle. As for the rest, you're fucking weird."

I frown. "Okay, so I need to spell this out." I pick up a new curly fry. "This curly fry represents a vampire—you see why? Because it's coiled and snake-like, while the thick, sturdy pickle is the wolf—so this whole set up is like a mongoose and cobra—because you know, the mongoose always fucking whoops ass on the cobra. It snags it neck and then beats the shit out of the freaky string shape…" I trailed off, even though at this point my current curly fry is bathed in ketchup blood and my pickle is starting to look decidedly battered.

Embry blinks when I stop. It would appear he was quite rapt in my presentation.

Sam, however, is looking pissed.

I think about offering him my pickle—but I'm sure that will not end well.

Gods be praised though, because a familiar haughty voice interrupts the tension. "What were you doing with that pickle?" Lauren is standing aside our table.

Okay… shit. But I rally. "Demonstrating battle tactics to my colleagues here." SAVE!

"What, for football or some sport?"

"Uh, not exactly, but close?"

She raises her eyebrows, but then she turns to Sam. "You have a nice voice."

"Thank you," he gives the glib reply. I get a glare.

Lauren blinks at him, appearing confused as to why he's being short with her, before shrugging and turning back to me with her mouth slightly ajar. I'm about to open my mouth, try to do a "beta-save" and say the fiancée word, then I see her jaw fall completely open—and there's a brief millisecond where I think it's because she's realized the hotness that is Jacob Black, but then I smell something…

_Icy_.

I turn toward the window, and there outside, standing there with his freaky snake-bean skin is that _bitch_.

Edward Cullen.

Despite everything, my first thought is to wonder if he listened in on my curly fry-mongoose battle.

* * *

Text to Bella.

YER LeECh BF just cock-blocked me.

Bella to Jacob

…  
I don't know where to begin.  
I suppose…  
Why are you involved with his cock?

Jacob to Bella

I am NOT…  
Jesus.  
He and Sam are giving each other  
creepy ALPHA looks  
through the window.  
WAIT. He's coming inside.

Bella to Jacob

What's he wearing?

Jacob to Bella

wtf?

Bella to Jacob

Sorry that wasn't me.  
I had to wrestle my phone  
from a sobbing gay vampire.

Jacob to Bella

Edward heard that.  
Whole fucking telepathy thing.  
Sorry.

Bella to Jacob

Later. I need 2 comfort L.  
He has a crush on Edward.  
It's given him bad thoughts  
about me.

Jacob to Bella

The leech is demanding to know  
what the "bad" thoughts are.  
He's holding my pickle in  
his hand.  
He might crush it.  
Sam thinks it's funny.  
ALPHAs suck.

Bella to Jacob

Oh, ::sigh::  
L has thoughts about  
turning me over to Victoria.  
It's okay now.  
We are working thru  
this.

Jacob to Bella

WHERE R U?

Bella to Jacob

I gotta go.  
FRENDs b4 Men!

Jacob to Bella

Bella, where R U?

Jacob to Bella

Bella!

Jacob to Bella

He crushed my pickle…

Jacob to Bella

And the hot blond bitchy  
girl left me…  
What happened to frenz  
b4 men?  
I'm yer frend.  
SRSLY? Pleaz.  
My pickle.

* * *

| i l \ |I :| / l i\ |

A Tree in the Forest...

| / l i\ || / l i\ |  
| i l \ |I :| / l i\ |

BELLA + LAVRENT  
BFF 4 EVR

.

But five minutes later...

.

BXII*())IIENT  
XXX4\\\|||

LAURENT, U R A TRAITOR.

VICTORIA + JAMES  
4vr

R.I.H.  
BELLA SWAN

(H = Hell)

-_**V**_

_._

| / l i\ || / l i\ |.

* * *

Um... dun, dun, dun???

I've decided this will be 12 chapters... so two more. It may or may not be written as a musical. Definitely a play, but whether or not there will be chorus lines is questionable.

Thanks to kstew411 for reccing this. It made me smile. :-)

Uh, and sorry 'bout the wait. I always seem to write this while drinking...


	11. Chapter 11

**AHAHAHAH. I can't believe I'm posting this. Whatever. Have at it.**

**

* * *

**

**Entry 11:**

There is nothing left to say. There is only the vision before me:

The acrid drips of piss-colored vinegar.  
The peppery demolition of cucumber into gel.  
The golden eyes of a spastic beast.

There was never any hope. I should have known, and yet, I did not.

**Act 11. Scene 1.**

_Bella steps on to the stage. Her arms are crossed, and her eyes are flitting from left to right and down to the floor before moving up to scan the sky. She jerks when she hears something from the east. _

**Bella:** Laurent? [_Pause_.] Laurent? [_Louder._] Laurent?

_She turns, pivoting on her right foot, only to freeze, uncrossing her arms and balling her hands into fists as she glares at an upward angle._

**Bella**: I am not wearing that. No force, supernatural or otherwise, will make me wear _that_.

**Laurent:** [_Leaping down from a tree.]_ Bella, Bella, Bella. You have no eye for the dramatic. No sense for fashion!

**Bella:** [_Pouts_.] I thought I was just going to be invisible.

**Laurent:** You are. Just in a white dress—you'll look like a ghost when you fade out!

**Bella: **I'm pale enough as it is—I already look like a ghost.

**Laurent:** No, Bella, my dearie-dear little human. What you fail to understand is that this dress is about your new role! Your _new_ transformation. You're to become more than a human. More than a vampire, even. More than a god! More than a woman!

**Bella:** [_frowning_] Don't you have that out of order…?

**Laurent:** [_Ignoring her, continues talking_] For today, my dear, is the day that make history your bitch! It be the day that you fist that fucker up the ass and tell him: HE DOESN'T OWN YOU! [_Bella is frowning again._] Thus I say to you, Bella my kindred companion, are you ready?

**Bella:** To wear the dress?

**Laurent:** Well, yes, the dress, but more so…? [_He dips head, his expression expectant._]

**Bella:** Uhhhh?

**Laurent:** [_Stomps his left foot_.] REVENGE!

**Bella:** Revenge? Oh, right. _Revenge_. [_She nods along with a sage expression_.] So I put on the dress and then…?

**Laurent:** And then you will trust, that I am the BEST—and we won't digress into detailing this test!

**Bella:** A test of what? And why are you singing—again? I'm putting on the dress. [_She puts her head through the skirt.]_ Please stop…

**Laurent:** A test of heart! And I sing like a lark! So don't judge me! This I haarrrrrrrrrrk!

**Bella:** [_Pulling off her jeans beneath the skirt_.] Oh dear.

**Laurent:** [_Grabbing her hand, skipping_]

That hot vampire, who crushed your heart,

Will not be felled with poison dart

He won't be tricked by petty lies

But he will be tricked by…

[_Looks at Bella expectantly again._]

**Bella:** [_Holding up the hem of her dress_.] A disguise?

**Laurent:** I roll my eyes, at your base thoughts.

For you can do better, as you know you ought.

The secret to our vengeance creed

Is that he can hear all but thee.

**Bella:** [Laughs and replies] All but me!

**Laurent:** [Air claps encouragingly even as he continues singing]

All but thee, and this is why

When you're done, he'll want to cry

Because we are going to make him see,

What he lost when he ran from me.

**Bella:** So, the secret to our vengeance creed is that he can hear all but me?

**Laurent:** Yes, the secret to our vengeance creed is that…

**Bella and Laurent:** [_In chorus_] He can hear all but

**Laurent:** Thee!

**Bella:** me!!!!!!

_They skip forward, the woods going quiet as their voices slowly fade._

_Until…_

_A stick cracks._

_A new being steps into the glade. She scoops down and picks up a large stick._

**Victoria:** [_She stares in the direction of the voices, before she too begins to sing in a high-pitched, almost child-like voice.]_ The secret to my vengeance creed…. [_She pauses and takes a breath. She fingers the stick in her hands. She smiles. She sings louder this time._] The secret to my vengeance creed is that I am _strong_. The secret to my vengeance creed is that you are weak. [_She breaks the stick. The crack echoes._] And _Laurent_ is nothing but floppy-handed and _weak, _so run little girl. Run. I'll catch you before he can.

_With a resounding cackle, she runs ahead into the forest, her face furious yet determined._

**Act 11. Scene 2.**

**Alice**: Something is VERY, VERY wrong.

**Jasper**: Would you care to specify?

**Alice**: [_Whispers_] Bella is skipping and singing… with another vampire, and Edward is suffocating a pickle.

**Jasper: **Are you speaking in metaphor?

**Alice: **You have no idea how I wish I was.

**Jasper**: Is Bella in danger? Is she going to trip…? Or suffocate on her vocal chords or something?

**Alice**: Shhhh…. [_She closes her eyes._]

**Jasper**: Fine. Fine. Do your mental reconnaissance. [_Crosses his arms across his chest. Looks Sulky._]

**Alice**: [_Brow furrowed_.]She will trip, but Laurent will catch her.

**Jasper**: Laurent?!

**Alice**: Hah. Bella really can't fucking sing. Laurent can though—he has an AMAZING baritone—who would have thought? Oh, and their plan is sooooo not going to work.

**Jasper**: [_At a loss._] Laurent? Singing? Plan?

**Alice**: [Gasps.]

**Jasper**: What is it, Alice?

**Alice**: Their plan isn't going to work because—

**Jasper**: Because—?

**Alice**: We have to stop Victoria!

_Alice takes off, not stopping to explain but running for the trees. Jasper stands there for only half a second before groaning and racing after her._

**Act 11. Scene 3.**

**Edward:** [_Pickle_ _mush falling in small globs from the bottom crease of his fist._] WHERE IS SHE?!?

**Jacob:** [_Frowns at Pickle_.]

**Sam:** We tell you nothing, Leech!

**Embry:** Hey, Jake, man, you're a mongoose. Remember. You're a mongoose.

**Sam:** [_To Embry_] We're in a _diner_.

**Jacob:** [_To Edward_] Just because you don't eat cucumbers, doesn't mean you can't respect them!

**Embry:** Good job, Jake! Way to go, mongoose!

**Edward:** [_Shaking his head as if to wring a small ocean out of his ears_] You all really have no idea where she is, do you?

**Jacob:** No. Go away. We hate you. Bella hates you, too. [_Picks up a curly fry and squishes it defiantly_.]

**Embry:** Mongoose! [_Fist pumps_.]

**Sam:** That's right! Be gone, vam—[_Realizes that every single person in the diner is watching them_.] I mean—vamoosey-moose.

[_All turn to stare at Sam with raised brows_.]

**Sam:** [_Heaves an irritated sigh.] _Outside, _now_.

**Edward:** [_Following Sam out the door_.] You have a nice voice. Too bad you smell like a barnyard.

**Sam:** You have a nice voice, too. Too bad you're a _murderer_.

[_Jacob and Embry both cringe. Not a good comeback_.]

**Edward:** Look, I just want to find, Bella. Alice saw that she might be in trouble.

**Jacob:** She's safe here. The only trouble she's ever had is from you.

**Edward:** Which is why I left!

**Jacob:** But you came back!

**Edward:** Because Alice saw another vampire chasing after her!

**Sam:** We're handling that!

**Embry:** Yeah! [_Beats his own chest.]_ Mongooses!

**Jacob:** Or wolves… [_Shakes his head and reminds himself to never get Embry analogies anymore_.]

**Edward:** Well, if you're protecting her—who's watching her now?

**Sam:** Paul and Quil are on duty.

**Edward:** Then why did Alice see her with another vampire?

**Sam:** [Rolls eyes. Flips open cell phone.] Hey, Paul. What's the status?

**Paul's voice**: Status?

**Sam:** Yeah, the status of your patrol

**Paul's voice**: Oh. Right. Um, I got sidetracked. I thought Jake was with Bella?

**Sam:** Where's Quil?

**Paul's voice**: Uh, I think something happened with Claire. He went to stop by…

**Sam:** Well, then, who's watching the trails?

**Paul's voice**: Uh…

[_With a snarl that makes the parking lot shake, Edward stomps away toward the woods at barely human speed, disappearing into the line of trees in flash._]

**Jacob:** Well, crap. Do we have to follow him?

**Sam:** We have to find Bella first.

**Embry:** We'll do it. Although I need to put my shoes in your car first, Sam, if we're going to run.

**Sam:** [_Exasperated_] Hurry…

**Embry:** [_Walking away gangster style, starts to snap out a beat._]

The Mongoose and the Snake

Went a'hunting through the forest

To see who was a knave

To see who was the best!

_[Sam turns and glared at Jake. Jake smiles weakly, in defense of his friend—and himself.]_

_[Embry continues on, throwing his stuff into Sam's car:]_

_Be it vamp or wolf,_

_Mongoose or snake,_

_The La Push Boys will win it_

_Jarr, Em, Sam—Paul, Jake!_

**Jacob:** Aren't you going to count Quil?

**Embry:** Quil is playing with a little girl right now.

**Jacob:** _Ruh_-ight…

**Act 11. Scene 4.**

_Laurent and Bella are standing before a cabin. Bella keeps picking up the skirt of the white dress and flicking baleful glances between the fabric and Laurent. Laurent, though he notices her mood, pretends he does not._

**Bella:** So, what's the plan?

**Laurent:** You have your baggie?

**Bella:** [_Reaches into her bag and shuffles around before lifting the small "Biohazard" sack.]_ A-negative. Ew. [_She wrinkles her nose_.]

**Laurent:** Yes, I prefer positive, myself—but enough of these _non sequitur_. Our plan.

**Bella:** Yes…

**Laurent:** This cabin is not in good shape. I could lean on it, and it would crumble.

**Bella:** [_Grumbling_] You could push on a skyscraper and it could crumble…

**Laurent:** [_Warningly_] Now is not the time for attitude.

**Bella:** It's the time for planning!

**Laurent:** Exactly. So, we have the blood. We have the dress, and I have… [_He holds a match box_.]

**Bella:** You're going to burn me at the stake?

**Laurent:** Well, now that you mention it…

**Bella:** Bad idea—he'd still hear me breathing and stuff—and how could I get out of the bonds? And what if my dress caught on fire?

**Laurent:** Well, anyway, we're going with the original plan. So, you have another baggie for me, yes?

**Bella:** [_Reaches into her bag again_.] I saved you an O-positive.

**Laurent:** [_Blows her an air kiss as he takes the bag_.] I knew I loved you! Now, your cell phone—give me your bag.

**Bella:** Why do you need…? [_Frowns as Laurent snatches her bag out of her hands._]

**Laurent:** Hush. You'll see in a moment—and now, oh good—you have the blood collection set. [_Pulls out the syringe and blood collection tubes.]_

**Bella:** [_Shrugs_.] I keep it on hand just in case…

**Laurent:** Your dad's going to think you're a drug dealer.

**Bella:** [_Wistful_] A heroin dealer…

**Laurent:** Bella, you're being weird again.

**Bella:** It's just that Edward told me once that I was like his heroin…

**Laurent:** [_Hand over his mouth._] But that's—that's beautiful!

**Bella:** [_Patting him_] It's okay. You'll find your lifelong addiction someday, and in the meantime, I've totally promised you peen pictures.

**Laurent:** [_Nodding_.] I know, you are _the best_—it's just—well—I can't believe I'm _moping_ again. I need to focus! Alright. Cell phone. Dress. Cabin. Matches. Syringe. I think we'll need to get a proper fire going first. I'd ask you to help but…

**Bella:** But I'll set you on fire accidentally. It's okay. I understand.

_Laurent sets off to light the corners of the cabin on fire. Bella watches patiently, still flipping the hem of her dress from side to side. When Laurent returns, the smell of smoke and burning cedar has already started to fill the air._

**Laurent:** There now. As for the final part… _[He picks up the syringe and puts the needle into his mouth._]

**Bella:** What the fuck are you doing?!?

**Laurent:** Hold still. [_And then he jabs the needle into her left ankle.]_

**Bella:** YOU JUST! YOU—! Was that venom!?!

**Laurent:** [_Smiles hesitantly_.] I am sorry that we had to go _in vitro_ for your new birth—it's just that with the risk of me drinking you and the whole disgusting exchange of body fluids—I really thought this was the best way.

**Bella:** [_Staring down_.] No, it's okay. It _tingles_.

**Laurent:** It will start to burn soon enough—no other way. But as you know, you need to keep your baggie in hand—as soon as you see Edward, you need to drink it—no matter how much pain you're in.

**Bella:** But how will Edward know I'm here?

**Laurent:** [_Holds up her cell phone_.] Because, my lovely, I just sent the following message out to your entire contact list.

**_I am having a fiery birthday party_**

**_at the cabin at Rainwood Rd., just_**

**_three miles off the 101 after the truck_**

**_stop. Juliet is my muse, jsyk. 3_**

**Bella:** LAURENT!!! You sent that out to my entire contact list!

**Laurent:** I know! [Claps, looking highly pleased with himself.]

**Bella:** That means the wolves will be coming too!

**Laurent:** Oh, shit. I forgot about the uglies. Oh, well, either way, we need to get you upstairs, and… [_Glances around nervously_] I need to hide.

**Bella:** Hide?!?

**Laurent:** I do not want your schmunkins to think I'm challenging him for you. Nor do I want Oliver & Company to come after my bits… So, yes, I'm going to hide.

**Bella:** [_Grumbling_] Fine, then. Where do you want me?

**Laurent:** [_Giving her a wily grin, before he suddenly launches into_:]

Upstairs window, second from the right.

We better hurry. It's getting smoky.

Your lovers are a'coming fast.

Better get you up before you choke-y.

**Bella:** My ankle really fucking hurts.

**Laurent:** Have no fear. That's meant to be.

Because when evening hits, you'll be like me!

**Bella:** What, dead?

**Laurent:** [_Smiling_] Precisely.

_Watching from a distant tree._

**Victoria:** Precisely.

* * *

**Um, the ending (AKA the next chapter) to this is written in my head… and I've decided it's genius hilarity (because I always form ridiculous opinions that are separate from reality), so ideally, I'll have that done by the weekend-ish. The wait won't be long. Thank you all—every last one of you lovelies from the bottom of my heart. Also, I've been reading Star Trek reboot fic, and created a rec list, so if you're interested in fandom hopping, do click on the rec list link in my profile. J**


	12. Chapter 12

**Copyright does not belong to me.**

**So, this is the campiest, insanest shit ever-but if you've read up until this point-what else would you expect? ****Lubbs you all. Oh, and you might want to leave this playing in a separate window while you're reading... just cuz:**

**www(dot) youtube(dot)com/watch?v=_FmGtCIOwB4&feature=related**

* * *

**Act 12. Scene 1**

_Charlie Swan is talking to Leah Clearwater when his phone beeps. Leah is wrapping up some of Harry's fish fry and more of those damn gingersnap cookies her mom insisted she make, when she hears Charlie sputter in surprise._

**_I am having a fiery birthday party  
_****_at the cabin at Rainwood Rd., just  
_****_three miles off the 101 after the truck  
_****_stop. Juliet is my muse, jsyk. 3_**

**Charlie:** Well, that's weird.

**Leah:** Bella do something screwy again?

**Charlie:** [_Brow furrowed_] She sent out a message that today was her _birthday_. Her birthday's in September.

**Leah:** [_Freezes_.] Birthday? Charlie, let me see the text. [_Charlie hands her the phone. She reads it before looking back up at him._] Is Bella still hung up on Edward?

**Charlie:** I dunno. She's been better with Jake around, but then again, since she got the job at the clinic, she hasn't been like before—but she's been weird… [_He trails off, looking guilty_.] I noticed that she's been wearing some fashion forward color combinations lately…

**Leah:** I think she's about to do something even more drastic.

**Charlie:** Drastic. You mean—Juliet—you mean—_suicide?_

**Leah:** Yes. That's exactly what I think. Either way, we should go.

**Charlie:** That's what this message is! A cry for help!

**Leah:** I don't know if we'll be able to stop her, but—

**Charlie:** We have to try! Now!

_He runs for the door. Trailing his heels, Leah follows, a bag of cookies unconsciously gripped in her hand._

**Act 12 Scene 2**

_Edward appears in the meadow. As it is winter, it looks like more a trampled hay field. Then again, it's Forks, so there's still a lot of green. Edward scans the field, sniffing the air. When the breeze hits his back, he turns and growls. He can smell the wolves tailing him. Yet, still, he has time, for no one else can find Bella like he can. Not with the way her scent is so overpowering strong. It mows down Old Spice with its potency._

**Edward:** [_Picking up a flower. Chokes on non-tears as he grips the stem to his chest. Starts to sing along to the beat of Phantom of the Opera._]

Her blood it sang to me  
At our lab desk she came  
To sit down next to me  
To speak my name,  
And do I smell her blood?  
For now I choke!  
My _tua cantante_ still stings,  
Inside my throat!

_He takes off, running at full throttle._

_A moment later, three large shapes burst into the meadow only to stop and stare at one another. The red wolf looks at the tan wolf at his side. He shakes his head in a wolfy show of exasperation. The grey wolf in the front gives a commanding huff. They follow the trail of the vampire._

**Act 12 Scene 3**

_Bella is waiting in the upstairs window. There's no glass, so her arm is lazily swinging to and fro with the breeze. She has a wet cloth pressed across her face to handle the smoke. Laurent is sitting on the front porch step, listening to the air._

**Bella: **By the way, whose cabin is this?

**Laurent**:Oh, someone named Newton.

_Bella cackles, smiling to herself, and then the quiet waiting resumes. After another minutes Bella cringes and frowns, rubbing at her leg._

**Bella:** I really hate waiting. I've been waiting for that asshole for almost a whole year. Also, my leg stings like hell.

**Laurent:** You can wait ten more minutes. You won't change into a vampire that fast.

**Bella:** Ugh. Then again, I still wanna see his schlong.

**Laurent:** [_Huffily_] Shhh!

**Bella:** Right. Right… I won't forget your promise you know.

**Laurent:** Indeed, you won't.

_But then Laurent freezes. He turns to the woods, already backing away, nostrils flaring and eyes wide._

**Bella:** [_Whispering loudly_] Is it him?

**Laurent:** It's—It's—

**Victoria:** [_Stepping out from the trees_.] It's Victoria!

**Bella:** Oh, shit.

**Laurent:** No. No. NO. NO NOOO. You aren't supposed to be here!

**Victoria:** I've come to get my vengeance!

**Laurent:** No, we're getting our vengeance now! You have to wait!

**Victoria:** How DARE you! I was wronged first!

**Laurent:** Not so! My boy-love issues have been going since you were in diapers, Princess! Moreover, we have a theme song and everything. [_Launches into song_.]

The secret to our vengeance creed  
Is that he can hear all but thee!

[_Stops singing and cries out:_] See, so there!

**Victoria:** You're not the only one with a song, Laurent.

[_Singing_.]

The secret to my vengeance creed  
is that I am strong.  
The secret to my vengeance creed  
is that you are weak!

**Laurent:** [_Raising a nostril in dismissive disgust_.] Yours doesn't even _rhyme_.

**Victoria:** I DON'T CARE!

**Laurent:** Well, maybe, I dooo.

**Victoria:** I _will_ have my revenge! [_She lowers into a crouch.]_

**Bella:** Oh, shit. I mean I feel like shit. It's not just my leg anymore.

**Laurent:** [_Voice sounding shrill_.] Stop that! No crouching! No lunging either! Play nice! Bella's my friend! You can't just eat her. [_To Bella.]_ Drink you baggie, dearie—on the double!

**Victoria:** You were supposed to be _my_ friend. I trusted you! I went beyond the pale for you! I gave you an excuse to get out the clutches of that hot Russian chick—but now… _Now_, I have been double-wronged. First by this blood sack and now by you! You will pay with your last breath!

**Laurent:** [_Whimpers_] Last breath?

_Victoria's leg flies back at the same time that Laurent shrieks and runs for the forest—to which Victoria responds by cackling and glaring at Bella._

**Victoria:** Your blood is mine!

_But then, coming in from the west, two new shapes emerge._

**Alice:** I knew it!

**Jasper:** [_Coming up at her side_] You know _everything_.

**Alice:** I got the red head.

**Victoria:** Curses!

**Jasper:** I'm going to track down the male...

_Jasper sighs in the direction of the howling retreat of Laurent, before running in pursuit._

_Bella, meanwhile, is no longer at the window, but rather scrambling out the back of the cabin. Victoria leaps after her. She is halted, however, as Alice leaps and snatches for Victoria's toes. Victoria—having her own superpower of escaping—evades Alice's untimely swipe, but it costs her. Instead of neatly flying in through the window, she crashes into the lower story. Alice sails out of her dive with an Olympic like sit-spin, and turns already chasing after Victoria. _

_But Victoria is pushing out the back door if the cabin-only to grind to a halt. She blinks, staring in confusion as a white dress seems to be floating across the forest. Alice, too, is staring in wonder through the smoke and dust of the cabin's destruction. They both watch as the white dress suddenly stops, suspended in the air before tumbling to the floor. The dress remains stationary on the ground, but the sounds that were with it before… a _lubdublubdub_ gushing heartbeat continues to move in the opposite direction._

_Both Victoria and Alice's thoughts are simultaneously confirmed when a voice is heard._

**_Bella:_** [_Groaning_] Ow. Ow. No—man—or really—really—hot monster—is—worth—this.

**_Victoria: _**Ah hah! I will find you yet! [_She races toward the sound_.]

**Alice:** No, you don't!

_Alice lunges after her. Victoria evades as she did before, but Alice's own talent counteracts Victoria's. Victoria dodges Alice by swinging around a tree trunk—but mid-swing, Alice cracks the entire tree and Victoria's pretty trick ends with her barreling across the forest floor—the tree branches splintering around her._

_Then, both vampires are staring at each other again. Faces growling._

_Enter Edward._

**Edward:** Alice!

**Victoria:** Curses!

**Edward:** Where's Bella?

**Alice:** Meet your end, Vicky!

_Alice lunges. Victoria, trapped between her and Edward, tries to dodge—but the combined power of Alice and Edward's talents is too much. Edward captures her._

**Edward:** Where is BELLA?

**Victoria:** [_Angry snarl.]_

**Alice:** Edward—she's—she's—

**Victoria:** Dead.

**Edward:** No, she's not!

**Victoria:** My apologies… she's not dead—_yet_. But listen...

_Victoria inclines her head in the direction of where they last heard Bella. They all listen. There's the thumping from before the _lubdublubdublub_, though now fainter. The soft silence is interrupted when they hear the quiet voice…_

**Bella:** [_Whispers_] Edward…

**Edward:** Bella?

_But then her heart stops beating, and no reply is heard. _

_The forest is dead silent._

**Jacob Black's Journal**

**Entry 12:**

I arrived there first. Just in time to hear the crackling rip of marble flesh. The flap of her neck was in his teeth and the fire-red strands of hair rippled across his face as he swung the ball of white and red into the air. We heard it thump at a distance of what must have been a mile away.

An angry thump like an old time canon ball.

Dull and so permanent. (I shivered.)

Then I watched him run.

I followed him, not knowing where I was going, not knowing anything—except feeling an overwhelming sense of dread spiking in my stomach.

Then he stopped at an indentation in the leaves. It looked distorted at first, like the leaves were fungi-covered, or filmy in some weird way—but then, I was able to discern the shimmering outline. The feminine curves.

That was when Edward reached down. He scooped her up. Bella. He leaned down right where her neck should be. He drew in a breath.

He was smelling her, I realized.

Ew.

Also, fuck. _Sad_. The dread dropped like a dumbwaiter without a chord into the rock bottom of my lungs, because I realized that Edward was holding invisible Bella—and Bella wasn't breathing.

I gasped—I think. I know I slapped my hand over my mouth. I was only half aware of the small female vampire at my side, the approaching pad falls of my brothers, and the screech of a truck jerking into the drive. I was only half aware because the weirdest fucking thing was happening.

Ass-pucker weird.

Edward had started to sing.

**Act 12 Scene 4**

**Edward:**

[_Phantom of Opera melody Take Two_:]

_Sing once again with me  
__Brand of heroin  
__I need your stumbling walk  
__I need your scent  
__And though you turn from me  
__Beg immortality  
__This vampire you loved is there  
__Just outside your mind!_

_Edward's voice cracks on the last syllable, and all fall silent, until a new voice enters the clearing—bright, clear, and a surprisingly pleasing tenor. _

_All turn to see Laurent, being carried out of the line of trees by an exasperated looking Jasper._

**Laurent:**

[_Phantom of Opera melody Take Three_, Christine's Reprisal]

Those who have seen your face  
Might just turn queer  
I am the man you want to wear!

**Edward:** What?

**Laurent:** No, no, no. You're supposed to sing [_He sings in a deeper voice_.] "It's me they hear!"

**Edward:** [_To Jasper_] NO. What the hell is he doing here?

**Jasper:** [_Apologetic_] He surrendered?

**Edward:** And you carried him?

**Laurent:** And why not? Blondie, here, has _fabulous_ upper body strength. [_Grins_.]

_They are interrupted, by the undeniable crack of a gun. Embry yelps, and all turn to see Charlie, with a frenzied Leah standing at his side. The bag of cookies that Leah holds is unconsciously shaking in her hand. Her eyes are wide—terrified._

**Charlie:** I'll save you, Alice!

_He fires again. Embry yelps again. _

**Alice:** Charlie, no! Wait—you don't understand!

**Charlie:** Damn wolves! They're the size of small houses! [_Fires again_.]

**Leah:** Charlie! Stop shooting! It's not the wolves you need to worry about!

**Alice:** Stop shooting!

**Leah:** Shoot at the vampires!

**Charlie:** [_Paling. He turns to face Leah_.] V-vampires?

**Leah:** Yes, that little freak you have a not-so-secret crush on is a vampire!

**Charlie:** What? NO! Those giant wolves are going to eat people! [_Points to Victoria's body_.] They already ate that woman's head!

_He raises his gun to fire again—but Leah grabs at for the barrel. Charlie resists, pulling back. Leah grabs even harder until suddenly she shrieks, falling back. The gun goes off—but at the same time there's a new sound, one of ripping flesh, and then Leah is no more. There is a explosion of cotton t-shirt, rubber straps, and denim, and then a wolf, much smaller and thinner than its male companions is thrashing on the ground._

**Wolf**-**Leah:** HOWL! YIP! (Bark?) Hoooowwwwllll-Howl—Hooowl! [_Snarls in the direction of vampires._]

**The Other Wolve**s: Howw-ooo!

_The other wolves run toward Leah, herding her away from Charlie's broken figure. Alice starts to run toward Charlie—only to stop mid-step and gasp, pinching her nostrils, squeezing her mouth shut and backing away. The wind catches the scent. Blood. Charlie's blood. He's been shot. _

_Dropping Laurent, Jasper leaps forward, unable to stop himself, but Laurent blocks him, gripping his wrist—Jasper turns ready to fight, when Laurent's hand springs forth from his back pocket—one of Bella's biohazard baggies in hand—and pops it into Jasper's mouth. Jasper blinks, before sucking happily. He falls back with a gurgle._

_Laurent races toward Charlie._

**Laurent:** Is he okay?

**Alice:** No! He's been shot in the lung. He has minutes, at most.

**Laurent:** Can't you call that fancy-pants doctor father of yours? The hot Brit?

**Alice:** He's in Rio!

**Laurent:** No kidding? I really want to go to Rio, but Bella—

**Alice:** Focus! We need to save Charlie.

**Laurent:** Then move aside, woman! I'm on this! Charles will live!

**Alice:** Wait! What… are… you…?

_She watches as Laurent pulls out the syringe again. He sucks the venom out of his mouth, and then he plunges the hypodermic needle into Charlie's chest. _

**Alice:** We're too late! It won't be enough.

**Laurent:** No— [_He stabs the syringe into Charlie's chest again_.] Not for this fine looking mustachioed man—he can't—no—Come on, Charles! [_Laurent wrenches Charlie out of her arms._]

**Alice:** Laurent!

_But Laurent is tearing at Charlie's shirt. He rips open the light brown uniform and then makes short business of the white cotton undershirt, and then Charlie's wound is exposed. Laurent leans down. He presses his mouth. He sucks. _

_There's a moment when all still, and Laurent is spitting a bullet out onto the lawn, only to return to Charlie's chest, tongue poking into the hole, venom leaking out, and then the wound is closed, sealed by venom._

**Alice:** [_Blinking in shock_] He'll live. You saved him. You saved Charlie! [_She hops giddily_.]

**Edward:** But what about Bella? Charlie will awaken only to discover he has no daughter!

**Laurent:** [_To Alice_] Oh, you _do_ see the future? Neat! Yes, how long for Bella?

**Edward:** What do you mean—how long for Bella?

**Alice:** [_Ignoring Edward_] Two days tops. Nice job with the syringe to the ankle.

**Edward:** Wait—you mean… [_He leans down and sniffs the filmy corpse he holds_.] She—she—she smells like venom! Like venom! AHAHAHAH! Like venom! AHAHAH! Oh, Bella!

_Edward spins in a circle, bundling a foggy Bella close to him in his arms._

**Laurent:** [_To Alice_] Dear me. Baby Jesus is crying. That laugh was _horrifying_. Okay, I don't find him attractive any more now. Your hubs on the other hand…

_They turn to both look and see Jasper sprawled out on the lawn with the blood baggie flapping across his mouth as he sucks._

**Laurent:** Well, I at least see where you're normally blessed with a fine man. I can't say I was all the self-possessed when I had _my_ first baggie.

**Alice:** [_Eyes unfogging_] I have nothing to fear between me and your husband.

**Laurent:** [_Snorts_] Of course not. He's blond—and too young for my taste… despite the nice arms.

**Alice:** No. I mean, you and Charlie. You're going to be…

**Laurent**: Charles and I—you mean—we'll be mates?

**Alice**: Yes.

**Laurent:** [_Claps ecstatically_] Oh, Charles! Yes! He's going to be raging hot once he's done baking—isn't he?

**Alice:** He is. A very fine mustache, if I do say.

_Laurent sighs happily. Strokes his hand across Charlie's chin._

**Edward:** Hey, um, guys, by the way…

**Laurent:** Yes, dear?

**Edward:** Uh, why is Bella semi-transparent?

**Laurent:** [_Chuckles and pats the dirt at his side_] Wouldn't you like to know…

**Edward:** [_Warily eyes the spot at Laurent' side_] Um, maybe, I would….?

**Alice:** [_Eyes unfogging_] From drinking hospital blood, really? Even as a human? That's bizarre.

**Edward:** Wait! Why is Bella drinking blood?

**Laurent:** Because it turns her invisible. [_Eye roll._]

**Alice:** And it'll make her a really cool vampire!

**Edward:** But, but, but…

**Laurent:** But she's not going to put up with your buts anymore. She'll have your ass when she wants it.

**Alice:** [_Eyes unfogging again_] Yes, there is no other path.

_Edward stares at them blankly for a second, before glancing from Alice to Bella. He must be seeing some interesting visions in Alice's head, because he shivers suddenly, and relaxes his grip on Bella. Then, as Alice shakes her head, Edward sets Bella carefully down onto the grass beside Laurent. Edward presses a kiss to her forehead and then backs away like he's trying to get out of reach of a dangerous animal._

**Edward:** I need to hunt. [_He gulps_.] I'll be back, though—soon.

_Then he departs, running like a demon is chasing him._

**Laurent:** Is he _that_ afraid of sex?

**Jasper:** [_Calls out around his blood baggie_] Yes'm!

**Laurent:** Such a waste…

**Alice:** The two days head start won't do him any favors. You can't run from what you can't see chasing you.

**Laurent:** [_Cackles_] Indeed.

_Sighing softly, Laurent leans forward. He brushes a stray hair off of Bella's cheek and smiles, before turning to Alice—who laughs lightly and nods at him._

**Laurent:** [_Singing to Bella_]

In all your fantasies you always knew  
That nailing down that vampire

**Alice:** [_Sings_ _in an airy_ s_oprano_]

Would fall to you!

**Both**:

And in this labyrinth  
Where he tries to hide  
His _tua cantante _will track him down

**Alice:** [_Sings_] And fuck him blind!

_Laurent claps, and then Alice lifts up Bella, and Laurent lifts up Charlie. They start for the woods. __Jasper walks behind them with his baggie. He stops only to toss Victoria's corpse into the burning cabin, and then he continues after them. __Behind them, the cabin collapses in a heap of flames._

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so there's no way not to have a final epilogue to this. Tomorrow, lovelies.**


	13. Epilogue

**Disclaimer**: these are stephenie meyers characters being mutilated. in case you were confused.

**a/n**: And thus we come to the end. Uh, sexual content below? Warning? Do you need to be warned for anything in this fic?

* * *

**Jacob Black's Journal**

**Entry: The End**

I go into town the next morning to get the newspaper the next morning, and all I can do is stare blankly down at the newsprint. The headline is as ridiculous as it somehow cosmically fitting:

_Forks Examiner_

**HEADLINE NEWS**: LOCAL SHERIFF AND DAUGHTER DISAPPEAR. MYSTERY SURROUNDING CABIN ARSON. ONLY GINGERSNAP COOKIE CRUMBS, A TORN WHITE DRESS, AND SYRINGES REMAIN. LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT SUSPECTS DRUG CRIME SURGANCE FROM HIPPIE HIKER TOURISTS.

For more see. P. A7

I have a shit headache. The headache is nine-parts from the mental screaming between Sam and Leah (She almost seems immune to his alpha voice—and honestly, I think Sam's half terrified to use it on her.) and one-part caffeine depravation. I almost think about doing the oh-so-teenage faux pas of going into the Quickie Mart and buying a two-liter Coke for breakfast. That always pisses my dad off, Coke for breakfast. For some reason, he gets madder about it than he does about the smoking and drinking on the rez. But anyway, dad is probably drinking this morning—what with his best friend being turned into a vampire and all.

Not to mention his best friend's _daughter_.

Right. That girl I had a crush on.

Bella's a bloodsucker—fuck.

God, this thinking is making my head hurt, but still I do the math and realize that even with the tip and the annoyance of the townies chattering around me—the all-you-can-drink-coffee urns at the diner will still be a better deal. Yes, it's only an eighty-seven-cent savings, but I need yet another pair of new shoes—and socks. The change jar is near empty again. I am currently padding about in flip-flops—and it's forty degrees and February—not that this matters (I'm always warm.), but people give me weird looks. Therefore, I trudge over to good ole Pine Steeple.

I stomp on in there and slide into one of the booths, and since no waitress is nearby I pull my napkins toward me and pen "COFFEE" in awkward letters over the paper pattern, and then push it to the table's edge, after which I am able to cross my arms with grumpy satisfaction and bury my head into them. My ears are tuned only to the clank of the coffee urn—and mug. All else is white noise.

Sometime later I heard the clunk of a mug. I look up to see not a waitress, but Lauren the blond bitch chick.

"Your napkin was annoying me," she says, holding out a full mug. "And there's only one waitress on shift this morning, and she is a total fucking moron. She was assigned to sit next to me in my math class last semester—I used to have to listen to her try to add."

I swipe the mug from her, before she can utter another sound—and drain it, letting the acrid black liquid kick down the back of my throat. The subsequent chemical pleasure makes me shiver when my brain finally registers the filling of the caffeine tank in the space behind my eye sockets. It feels so good I groan.

Laurent, before me, remains stoic.

"Uh, thanks for the coffee. I needed that—I still need more, but—"

We hear a clatter of plates and then the sound of glass breaking. We turn to see the waitress sprawled on the floor with scrambled egg sitting on top of her hair bun and tears dripping down her red cheeks. The line cook rushes over, and the waitress leans into him, weeping into the crook of his neck.

Lauren shakes her head. "The lengths some people will go to get laid."

I smirk—it's hard not to. Her bitchiness feels good right now. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"Like, you don't know. She was _your_ friend." When I frown at her, she continues, "Everyone's playing at a big sob fest over Bella Swan. Like that waitress—she used to bitch about how _snobby_ Bella was—but now she's pretending they were spit sisters or some shit."

"So… if you're so annoyed over the Bella Swan 'sob fest'—why'd you leave your friends to come sit with me? Her _friend_…"

"Easy. Your napkin was less annoying than my friends." She inclines her chin over shoulder in the direction of a booth full of solemn looking teenagers. "And… I suppose you looked less fake-sad and more resigned. Also, I think you're hot."

Rightie-o, then. "Uh, you're hot, too?"

"Yeah, I can tell you think so. You stare a lot."

"Sorry?"

"No." She purses her lips, like she's trying to make a decision, and then she asks, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Uh…"

"Doesn't sex help with grief?"

"Oh, uh…" My jaw is hanging open as my brain tries to compute that this is really happening, and then it dawns on me that I'm getting propositioned, so I jump to my feet. "Yes. Yes it does."

"Jesus Christ… did I have to make that more obvious?" she asks as she grabs her purse.

We leave. That's how she ends up on all fours, and I no longer have feelings of inadequacy.

Or illogical sympathy for pickles.

Sue made me start a journal at the next pack meeting. She wrote it down on her list. She said I needed to "confront my emotions over our recent loses." Whatever, it was fine. At least she didn't make me bake cookies.

Thus, I have documented this tale of tail. (Pun. Pun. Pun.)

Word.

* * *

**From**: Myfraidypantzmateizavampire[at]vampadoodle[dot]com

**To**: cop_a_feel_baby[at]sexymanthangs[dot]net

**Date**: 2/19/2005 10:05

**Subject**: Closing In

Dear Laurent:

How are you?

How's "Charles"? (Snort.)

I'm currently in Rio, of all places—and it really is everything you said. Edward's hiding in the Ritz while he waits for Carlisle to call him back. Carlisle is _not_ calling him back. I already talked to Esme, and she's mad as a tea kettle at Edward. So, yeah, zero calls will be returned—besides, I think she and Carlisle are having a good time on their "isle."

Really, this whole business is ridiculous. Edward thinks that by hiding from me in a tropical place, he'll somehow be able to evade me. _Hah_. It's amusing. He still doesn't know that I can now control my invisibility when I want to—even in the day time.

I've taken to leaving white scraps of dress for Edward to find.

Under his pillow.

Hanging from the shower hook.

Dangling from tree branches when he goes to hunt…

If there was any doubt in his mind that they're from me, it's always dispelled when he leans down to sniff them. I watch him. His back tenses every time, and he looks around, as if he thinks he'll be able to find me. Of course, he can't. But then, he also always pockets the scraps, like they're dirty panties or something.

(Pervert.)

At this point, I'm biding my time.

Love and kisses,

Bella

* * *

"It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible." —Oscar Wilde

* * *

**Phone Log:**

**Text from ****Alice (907-340-5298) to ****Bella (212-288-7889)****:**

He's going to walk the beach  
tonight. There's a copse of  
palm trees that you can wait  
among. He won't detect you.

**Bella (212-288-7889) to ****Alice (907-340-5298):**

Roger that.  
Also how's my dad?  
I can't talk to Laurent about  
him. L starts talking about  
uniforms and glass dildos,  
and well, EW. It's my DAD.  
Also, C wasn't gay the last  
time I saw him, so…

**Alice (907-340-5298) to ****Bella (212-288-7889)****:**

Well, honestly, I can't say  
I'm that surprised either way.  
Now that C's no longer color-  
blind, he has fabulous fashion  
choices. You have no idea how  
seeing in grey-brown must  
have been holding him  
back. Also, I think he's "bi"  
dearie. Your mom was a colorful  
person, and well, Laurent is  
nothing if not colorful.  
Charlie thinks it's pretty cool  
you can turn invisible.  
And of course, he's excited  
About his own power.

**Bella (212-288-7889) to ****Alice (907-340-5298):**

Wait.  
His own POWER?  
What?

**Alice (907-340-5298) to ****Bella (212-288-7889)****:**

Oh, I thought you knew  
with Edward never being  
able to read Charlie's thoughts  
and all.

**Bella (212-288-7889) to ****Alice (907-340-5298):**

Edward NEVER told me that.  
He made it seem like he could  
hear Charlie.

**Alice (907-340-5298) to ****Bella (212-288-7889)****:**

Hmm. Interesting.  
Well, those days are over for  
Eddo after tonight.  
Oh, and your dad  
can make any one  
be silent. Shut up  
and stuff. It's why  
he and Laurent work  
so well.

**Bella (212-288-7889) to ****Alice (907-340-5298):**

Wow. That explains  
everything.  
Oh, and Alice…?

**Alice (907-340-5298) to ****Bella (212-288-7889)****:**

Yes, Bella?

**Bella (212-288-7889) to ****Alice (907-340-5298):**

I don't hate you anymore.

**Alice (907-340-5298) to ****Bella (212-288-7889)****:**

Oh, I know.  
I knew it before you did.  
Good luck tonight.

**Bella (212-288-7889) to ****Alice (907-340-5298):**

Over and out.

* * *

**Bella Swan's e-Diary**

* * *

In any ordinary fairy tale, it's the hero that tames the shrew—well, that, or karmic fate or some pink-puffed fairy godmother (which, now that I think of it—Laurent fits that role even better than he fits skinny jeans). Or in the reverse, the heroine's goodness is such that she sees through her own blinders and is able to discover the good in this "strange, dark (and handsome) misanthrope." She saves him at the last second—before the last rose petal falls or before the blinded Rochester can be swallowed by his own grief.

I am not a heroine. I was never one. I realize that now.

Because this was never about equality.

I thought it was. I just needed to be a vampire—like him. Equals.

No. I'm a vampire now, and I finally get it. Not equality—such a baby dumpling standard. This charade has been about predator and prey. About the hunt that never was. Edward wanted what he couldn't have—he wanted to test himself, to live on the edge—to delve in the mystery of my unknown mind.

I ask myself, as I sit on the beach with the palm fronds flapping above me, if this meant he ever really loved me.

Yes, I decide, as much as he knew how.

I know he still wants me.

The fabric sniffing tells that particular tale.

Which is not to say that he doesn't have much to learn.

He does.

I'm going to teach him.

* * *

I hear him long before I see him. As silent as his steps are, my ears pick them up easily above the gentle roar of the surf. When I see him, he's wearing a loose linen shirt, tied across his chest in knots. He has a hand combed into his air, gripping just above his temple—the grip looking too tight for someone just out for a walk. His steps are long and even, though. That makes me smile. Edward can't brood in place. He has to hunt or walk or run.

He's close to me. So very close when he freezes.

I see his side profile—I see his jaw tense and his nostrils flare. I can't help it. I feel like a cat incapable of not playing with her food. It wiggles too much not to poke it. I open my mouth. I inhale a breath, and then I blow it right at him.

He spins to face me, eyes not knowing where to focus, but he is taking in rapid breaths, and I can tell he's trying to trace me by scent, because he knows my scent so well. I half-expect him to flee, but he doesn't.

No, Edward whispers to the night, "Bella…?"

It makes me smile, hearing him say my name.

I don't respond back with words, instead I allow him to see me—almost. I let my profile shimmer ever so slightly with the light of the moon and the reflecting ripples of the sea.

Edward takes a hesitant step forward.

I take a step back.

This surprises him—_clearly_. He expected me to leap after him.

As if I would be so stupid.

"Bella?" he says my name again, but this time, it's not _"Are you there?"_ This time it's an "_I don't get it_." I stare at him. I smile. His eyes are locked on mine. He looks so unbelievably frustrated.

Well, I am sorry, dear one, but you're not getting a verbal explanation.

I turn my back to him, and once again. I disappear.

I can feel his frenzy in the next instant. The energy and panic spills off of him, needles and pins down my spine. Edward seems to explode, unfurling and then snapping into motion like a sail in catching a headwind. He runs toward me, with a panic to him that says he thinks I've actually transported myself out of existence. That his Bella is really gone. But I still very much exist, and he confirms this when his finger pads brush across my shoulder.

I stay still, but where his fingers press, my skin is tingling, its transparency fluttering, so that we can both see the marbled skin there humming in the spot around his fingers.

Edward looks down at the spot, transfixed, and then he moves his hands across my collar bone. His eyes are wide and curious, watching with something akin to discomfort—his elbows are pulled tight at his sides—and yet his eyes don't leave the path of his hands, watching the skin appear then disappear in lines as his fingers trace.

"Beautiful," he whispers. His fingers stop at the cove between the two collar bones, and then his fingers start to trail downwards.

"Is it?" I ask, voice trembling.

"Not 'it,'" he corrects me. "You."

"You can't see me."

"Let me see you."

"You'll run away."

"I—" he cuts off as he recognizes his own instincts. "I'm sorry about that."

"I don't believe you."

His thumb which is trailing down my chest stops. He lifts it and brushes it against my lips. "Say it again," he begs.

"I said I don't believe you."

He watches my lips move, although this time, he's studying me. "Why?" he asks.

"You've run away twice now, left me alone when I needed you. Third time's the charm."

"I was afraid."

"Of me."

"No—of what I was doing to you."

"Not this last time."

"Or yes, because of what I did to you."

"That's cowardly."

He doesn't like that. His breath comes out in a hiss. My words don't fit with the image he has of himself, I know. He likes to think of himself as noble and self-sacrificing. He's probably justified his leaving after the fact by not "wanting to take advantage of an out of control newborn." Courage not cowardice, of course. My accusation has pissed him off, and I feel the thumb on my cheek press hard—vampire-hard in response.

But his strength is nothing to mine now. I smack his hand away. I pull his lips to mine. His teeth graze my bottom lip in the struggle and the stinging slice of his teeth burns. It hurts. I don't care. I ignore it, because we're bowled over on the sand—rolling just like bowling pins in our struggle. Edward is trying to spin me around. Trying to overpower me with wrestling moves—like I've seen him do with his brothers, but he can't read my mind, and even if I have no knowledge of technique, my newborn strength is too much for him—and with a final spin, a final snarl, a final shove, I'm on top of him, and my shape-sand covered, and Edward's mouth is open so wide I can see the venom coating his back molars.

"You're naked," he gasps, shifting his hips below me.

"You're not." But that's not hard to fix. I grab at the ties on his shirt and tug. It rips right off.

"You're covered in sand," Edward puts his sand covered finger in my belly button, and swirls it about, watching the sand powder an outline.

I take this moment to rip open the front of his pants.

But his bellybutton shit is a ruse, because while my hands are occupied he rolls us, and we spin like a barrel, rolling down the beach, stopping only when we splash into the waves. Then it's a struggle, because even vampires get slippery, frictionless skin and all, and Edward is pushing me down into the waves, and I'm kicking out his ankles.

It's not really a fight. Or can you call it a fight if every time he pins me, I let him have the victor seat for a second, enough to grind against me? Or if and when I have his hips pinned to the ocean floor, I can feel his mouth suck along my breast?

We're deep in the water, far from the roll of the waves, when I decide I've had enough. I have both of his hands pinned in a fog of demolished coral, and my knees pin his thighs into slimy kelp. Edward's head is still thrashing, trying to throw me off, when I press against him, and then I kiss him.

The kiss takes him by surprise. He freezes completely before he kisses me back. It's not rough this time. There's no sting of razor-sharp teeth. The kiss is soft, drastically sweet after our struggles. Now there's just the awkwardness of the water trying to infiltrate everything, just the cold escape of his venom into my mouth, and the feel of his hands sliding up my hips.

When I raise myself above him, his hands are adjusting the angle of my hips. His eyes are wide with pupils dilated, looking back into my own. When I press down, he presses up—and then we're gasping together, even as I realize we're floating, having somehow rolled off the shelf and into deeper, darker waters.

We have to use each other as leverage. My ankles dig into his ass. His hands grip my waist, my shoulder. We're twisting and twisting and rolling without angle until it's like we've formed a knot that can't be undone—and yet it's being pulled tighter and tighter anyway—so tight it hurts. In fact, I snarl in the water when Edward's teeth shrink into my shoulder, but I'm snarling for every other reason, too, because his hips have been meeting mine with a fury, and when he bites it's at the same time that I realize I'm pressed against the ocean floor, and looking up through the water, somehow still able to make out the moon through the surface tension, and yet, when the sting of the bite finally ebbs, I can't see the sky or much of anything else. The whole sky is white.

I'm limp, and Edward carries me to the shore.

He sets me down on the sand and lies next to me, pulling me close and nuzzling his face into my wet hair. We lie there silent and his fingers trace over me.

"I see you," he whispers after a while.

It's true. It's hard to think about invisibility when you're having an orgasm.

I smile at him, and then turn invisible again.

He laughs and says, "I still see you." This time his finger is tracing the crescent scar where he bit me. It shines even though the rest of me is transparent.

"Clever," I mutter.

He smiles with a look that says he is proud of himself—and for more than just the bite.

I laugh, but I also stand up and walk back to the copse of palms.

I heard a "hey!" called out behind me as Edward rises in pursuit. I still have time to dig my fingers into the sand. To pull out the phone. Edward's standing there in fully erect horror when I take the picture.

"Did you just…?"

I'm quick with the buttons. I send the picture to Laurent.

I get an "Image Sent" message just as Edward grabs my phone and crumbles it into bits of scrap.

"What the hell was that?" Edward asks.

I press up again him. I kiss him, catching him with my palm at the same time and earning a low groan. "Just fulfilling a promise is all," I whisper in his ear.

I know that somewhere, Laurent is laughing.

* * *

**...Oh, my. Well, I'm sad to see this end. It's been fun, my lovelies. **

**So now, I'll be working on **_**Yesternight**_**, which is all angsty slash and has two chapters up.**

**Thanks again! I adore you all and I want everyone to know I wish you could have some of Leah's cookies. (hehehe)**


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